


The Detective's Unexpected Pregnancy

by Little_Firestar84



Series: The Chronicles of Christopher & Georgina LaSalle [1]
Category: NCIS: New Orleans
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, Canon Divergence, Complete, F/M, Het Big/Little Bang Challenge 2016, Multichapter, Romance, Season 1 & 2 mild spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 22:06:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7819021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Firestar84/pseuds/Little_Firestar84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NCIS Agent Christopher LaSalle had been daddy material ever since he could remember- and yet, he had always known that fathering a child would have meant playing genetic Russian roulette; Police Detective Georgina Newman, instead, had stopped believing men’s promises a long time ago- they were all the same in her eyes, always breaking her heart. She had no reason to believe that Christopher was any different- even if he kept swearing that he would be always there for her, no matter what….</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for HetBigBang here and on livejournal; thanks to Karlamartinova for betaing and Cassandrasfisher for the art.  
> [The Detective's Unexpected Pregnancy , by Cassandrasfisher.](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Het_Big_Little_Bang_Challenge_2016/works/7856218)  
> Also, a gallery featuring all the images that inspired the story- and that are, sometimes, described there, can be found [here on Pinterest.](https://it.pinterest.com/Little_Firestar/ncis-new-orleans-the-detectives-unexpected-pregnan/)

When LaSalle entered in the NCIS building, the first sense that alerted him that something wasn’t _completely_ right was his hearing; alongside Pride’s voice- which was higher than usual- he heard also a woman talking, with an accent he knew very, very well- she was an Alabama girl, all right –but with a voice he had never heard before. And yes- her own voice was as at least an octave higher than what it should have probably have been, as well.

They weren’t in the garden, nor in the squad room like he was, and yet, with maybe some too many doors left open, he could almost hear the whole argument- forensic, Kinkaid, Rowell, evidences were words thrown a lot by both parties.

Kinkaid, he knew- he was a serial killer they had apprehended a couple of weeks before, after he had made the mistake of adding a Petty Officer to his collection of victims- but as much as he tried to recollect who, or what, Rowell may be, he didn’t have any idea. Not a case they had been working on, that was for sure.

And then… it happened. He moved his eyes slightly to his left and he was awestruck.

People used to say that when you see something you want- something you’ll hold dear for the rest of your life- you know right away. Christopher LaSalle knew it to be true: he had felt it the day he had seen for the first time, at eight years old, his little sister, and then again, many, many years later, when a feisty red-head had gone and sit right before him in class. 

Honestly, thought, he had never thought that it would have happened again. Never believed possible to be… _bewitched_ again. He wasn’t talking about love, of course- never believed in love at first sight, way too rational for that- but a connection? _That,_ he actually believed. 

Even if it wasn’t the first time Christopher LaSalle was seeing the brunette inspecting with a curious look the garden of the NCIS NOLA office, her eyes filled with mirth and some kind of magical light- like it was the most wonderful place in the whole wide world. Like she was some kind of magical creature.

__

_ A short woman was kneeling on the ground, in front of the medical examiner, her head tilted to the side as she looked at the body of the Navy Officer who had died during the bank robbery at the Union Bank; LaSalle was taking pictures of the crime scene when he noticed her, someone who, in his books, had no reason whatsoever to be there. _

_ “Ma’am? That’s an NCIS active crime scene - I’d leave if I were you.” _

_ She turned, looked at him curiously with those huge dark eyes of hers, still kneeling on the ground- she was wearing purple latex gloves, he noticed, the professional kind, and seemed a little bit older than himself. She looked around, confused, then, finally she met his gaze. “I’m sorry, were you talking with me?” _

_ He rolled his eyes dramatically, spoke slowly, hoping that she would get the hint. “Yes, I was. I don’t know what you think you are doing, Nancy Drew, but…” _

_ She chuckled and left her position, joined him and, taking her right glove off, offered him her hand, once noticed the jacket and the shiny badge at his side; she was friendly and carefree- way too much for someone who’s been kneeling right next to a body until few seconds before. _

_ “Actually, I was examining  _ my _body. FBI Special Agent Newman, hi.” She moved with her left hand her leather jacket to the side, revealing an FBI badge and a gun; she opened her mouth to continue, but he cut her short, not even shaking her hand in answer._

_ “Listen sweetheart, I don’t know how it works in your book, but that guy over there? He was Navy Personnel. Which makes this  _ our _case.”_

_ She chuckled, crossed her arms over her chest, tsk-tsking him. “Bank Robberies are considered Federal Crimes, hence they are handled by the FBI; your officer was merely a victim of opportunity in the primary crime- the robbery- which means that we call dibs here.” _

_ “There’s a man here who died to save lives- a man who served his country. Which makes this an NCIS investigation.” _

_ “I’m aware, and I’m grateful that he was serving our Country, but it doesn’t change the fact that the Rewire Brothers had never opened fire before; I can understand why he felt the need- the rush- to help people out, but had he kept his cool in an uncontrolled situation where he didn’t have any back-up, nothing would have happened.” _

_ “You can’t know for sure.” _

_ “Listen  _ honey, _I’ve been globetrotting the country for this case for_ months _, contrary to your, what, five minutes? So yes, sorry but not sorry, I know what I am talking about.” She was still smiling, but it was grim and thigh, a little venomous._

_ “Children, don’t argue!” SSA Pride joined them, chuckling, laughing under his breath “Well, well, well, Special Agent Christina Georgina Newman, long time no seeing!” _

_ She grunted behind clenched teeth, her huge eyes huger when filled with anger. “You can either let us work this as one case or we can fight each other and work two different cases at the same time. Your choice.” _

_ She took the remaining glove off with a loud snap, and made her way to the exit; when she was still at hearing distance, though, she turned, and looked at Pride with a sarcastic glow in her eyes and humor in her voice. “And, by the way, Pride, you should teach your new puppy some manners!” _

_ Pride looked at his new recruit, and shook his head; he could see that Christopher, had he not been a true southern gentleman, would have done something very, very ungentlemanly. “Don’t worry Christopher, I’m sure you’ll win her over in no time. Newman is all talk, but she is one of the best cops that I’ve ever met. Besides, she is been raised in the Navy, so you can bet that she’ll do anything in her power to give our Officer the justice he deserves.” _

_ “So what was that, King? Some show of power? Because I gotta say, didn’t expect that from Shorty.” _

_ Pride chortled. “Don’t let her looks deceive you, Christopher. She’s been around Gibbs from as long as I can remember. Which means,” Pride snickered, patting Christopher on the shoulder. “She is way out of your league.” _

 

“Georgina Newman! You left the FBI, moved all the way to Los Angeles, you never call, never visit…” 

Hands in his pockets, Chris made his way towards the brunette, who turned and smiled as soon as she saw him, and met him half-way. Ten years after their first encounter, a few cases worked together in her FBI days, and they had leveled their differences and become… _fond_ of each other.

“Ehy.” She simply said, as they hugged, longer than what they were probably supposed to; she closed her eyes, and sighed. They parted, and Chris smiled, all shiny white teeth. 

“Always known that you were crazy for me!” They laughed, and she playfully hit him on the chest. “Deny it how much you want, but you still wear _my_ jacket.”

She readjusted the black leather jacket she was wearing, pouting. “It’s not yours. It’s a woman jacket _you_ bought _me_ because _you_ got _mine_ ruined during that sting at that club, how was it called,Derrière?.”

Chris chuckled, shaking his head and leaning against the wall at his back. “Seriously, though, I don’t think you are here because of li’l old me…”

He titled his head in direction of Pride’s… office, apartment, kitchen, whatever he was still calling it nowadays. His boss was still arguing with the mystery woman, who seemed to want the last word.

“ _That_ would be _my_ boss. She heard that Pride and I had history, and hoped I would make him, her words, _reason_. Told her that I have enough on my plate fixing my own family’s relationships, but she didn’t want to listen….” She sighed, turned and looked in direction of where the voices were coming from. “I spoke with Loretta a while back, she said he was still living here?” 

“At least he doesn’t fall asleep at his desk like a certain someone _I_ know.” Chris smiled, then took a breath and became serious. He searched for her eyes. He had known Georgina Newman for a good decade- and he knew that her eyes couldn’t lie; not to him, at least “Seriously, though, let’s cut the small talk. What’s going on?”

She sobered up, took the few steps that separated them from the small table at the center of the beautiful garden, and went to sat there, Chris following her and lazily sitting in front of the woman. “It’s about Kinkaid.”

“The serial Killer we stopped a few weeks back?”

She nodded. “His M.O. is uncannily similar to that of Stephen Rowell. My boss and I, _we_ put Rowell behind bars a few years back. And he hasn’t stopped proclaiming his innocence since the first time I brought him in for questioning.” She paused, her eyes betraying her words. She liked to think, tell everyone, that she wasn’t afraid. But of this, she was scared of. And not only for her career. “I’m starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t just _too good_ for it.”

“Access. Is that what your boss want?”

“Yeah. To him _and_ to evidence.” She nodded, sighed, crossed her hands on the table. “Rowell is on death row. _I_ _have_ to find out if he is innocent. I don’t think I could live with myself otherwise. I’ve given up on a lot of things for the job’s sake, made sacrifices- this is the only thing I have. The only thing I’ve ever been good at. I need to know that I can make it right.”

Chris sighed, and lifted his hands from his lap, feeling the urge to put it on her own, to console her. He knew what Georgina was talking about, what she truly meant, as they shared a similar kind of pain: his beloved Savannah was dead, killed because he was NCIS and Pride’s protégé, while Georgina, long before they met, had buried her own husband, Noah. Killed in the line of duty, his case was now cold, and he knew that she believed that, by not solving it, she had betrayed – _failed_ -him.

“Flirting on the job? It’s a big no-no, LaSalle!” Brody joined them, all smiles. 

“Nah. Georgina here is out of my league. Always have, and always will.”

Newman pouted like she was a child, mocking him. “Don’t listen to him. Our Christopher is only scared of my… godfather? Do you think that it’s the right word to describe the man?”

Chris lifted his face and looked at a very confused Brody with a knowing expression. “Girl got Gibbs’ seal of approval. Guy’s practically a second father to her.” He turned to look at Newman, lowered his voice. “They worked together on a case, but they don’t want to talk about it. We believe they had had an affair.”

“Children! Enough with the chit-chat! Time to learn things!” Pride looked out into the garden, knocking on the heavy metal door separating it from the squad room to get anyone’s attention; then he went to his desk, followed by a blonde woman with a huge purse, and he turned on the monitors. 

“Did Pride just called us _children_?” Meredith asked as they went in to follow Pride.

“It’s a reference.” Chris laughed, scratched lazily the back of his head. “When Georgina and I started working together, we didn’t hit it off immediately. King always used to call us children whenever he saw us having an argument.”

“He called us children because you didn’t have any respect whatsoever for authority or your eldest. Which you still don’t have, otherwise you would be calling me Newman.” Newman smiled, playfully hitting him on the shoulder as they walked.

“Detective Lieutenant?” The blonde woman asked, cutting them short; Georgina nodded, and handled Pride a thumb drive she was keeping in her jacket.

“We’ve got a new case?” Brody asked before the computer would download the files from the drive. 

“Not exactly. More like an old one.” Pride had to admit, quite serious. “Captain Raydor, Lieutenant Detective Georgina Newman, LAPD. Those are my agents, Christopher LaSalle and Meredith Brody. And now, ladies, tell me things.”

Brenda, who had been there for the first case, was the one who started talking.

“Ten years ago we got the first body. Our killer would hit every 180 days, no more, no less; at the beginning, it was always high risk victims with no apparent connection but with a strictly physical similarity…”

“Brunette with short hair, early to middle twenties, petite, look-a-like…” Pride sighed, and soon, together with the portraits and the DMV pictures of Rowell’s victim, he put the image of the woman from the Navy killed by Kinkaid in New Orleans– the victim that had gotten the NCIS involved to begin with.

The similarity with the Californian victims was, as Georgina herself had put it, _uncanny._

Georgina took the word, her arms crossed. “Three years ago we started going through the old cases with a profiler and a cyber-analyst. We cross-referenced anything we could think of, and between the names we got, Rowell stood out;the victims looked like Teresa Santiago, 25 years old. She had died in 2001 of overdose, and had been engaged to Rowell; the two of them had a daughter, taken away by social workers shortly before the first murder.”

Brenda continued. “His daughter’s loss was an obvious trigger. He fitted the profile. Didn’t have an alibi for any of the cases we knew of. The DA suggested a deal: if he confessed, told us if there were any victims we hadn’t found, she promised that she would have taken away from the plate the death penalty. But he refused, and preferred to go to trial.”

“Rowell couldn’t afford a lawyer, so he got one appointed by the state, a guy fresh out of law school with too many cases, little time and who didn’t even bother to _try_ to defend his own client.” Georgina continued, her eyes not on the screen but on the people around her. “Rowell was found guilty, and he is now awaiting the needle. But, really, everything was circumstantial at best. And the captain couldn’t break him, as much as she tried. He never faltered. Not even once. Kept saying he was innocent and that someone had framed him.”

Brenda grimaced, even after years, it still stung that she hadn’t gotten a confession out of the killer; Rowell had still been found guilty at the end, but it had taken some time. 

“A source in the FBI tipped us off about your killer. We’ve checked what we could so far, and I have to say that the Lieutenant is right; both Kinkaid and Rowell have the same, exact MO, even if your victims were low-risks, the opposite of ours. But it doesn’t have to mean anything; many killers evolve from high to low risks subjects with time, either because they subconsciously want to be stopped or out of hubris.”

“Yes, but, looking at the data,” Meredith bit her lips, and studied the file on the screen. “There’s been almost two years between Rowell’s arrest and our first victim. If Kinkaid had been the real killer all along, why stopping and not following his own pattern?”

Georgina shrugged. “We don’t know where Kinkaid was _before_ our murders occurred, only that after Rowell’s imprisoning he had been working in the Middle East as a military contractor for some time. Chances of a body standing outthere are slim. I’ve got few contacts at Interpol and with the military police, but I haven’t heard back yet, and frankly, I don’t expect them to.” 

Brenda’s lips were in a thigh line as she heard Brody talking next, with, probably, the most rightful argument possible. “You can’t even leave out the possibility that there’s no real connection at all between our cases; even _I_ know that in the past, Rowell has been a media sensation, the press has gotten their hands on every single detail of the murders. As far as we all know, Kinkaid may simply be a copycat.”

“The Injustice Project has been tipped off on this. As we speak, they are working on getting an hearing to get the sentence overruled, and the DA isn’t happy with this, nor the new Chief of Police.” Brenda said, sighing. She stopped to look at the victims, the casefiles, and turned to face Pride. “ I need to know if Kinkaid could look good for my murders as well, or if he learnt Rowell’s MO…. I need to know where he has been in the last ten years, what he has watched, the sites he had surfed, the books he had put his hands on… Rowell has been sentenced to death. I need to know if the LAPD made a mistake.” 

She turned to look at Georgina, who ended the sentence for the both of them. “We need to know if _we_ made a mistake.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Have you ever wondered why we never dated back then?”

Newman lifted her eyes from her smartphone at the sudden question coming from Chris’ mouth; she looked quizzically at him, letting her backpack fall to the concrete. “Seriously? Of the many important or serious things you could talk about, you want to ask me _this_?” 

Chris shrugged. “Humour me?” Without giving her time to protest, he grabbed her backpack- probably a reminder from her time living at base with the Major and Gibbs, when she never got to pack heavy, he guessed – and practically launched it onto his pick-up. Georgina was a good friend, he had always liked her, and the least he could do for her was to give her a lift to the airport. They didn’t enter the car, though. They simply leaned against the side of the vehicle, at each other’s side, their elbows almost touching.

“Seriously, thought; we used to hit it off. And sometimes I _did_ ask myself why we never did it.” Especially right now, with her so close to him, Georgina Newman not a long, distant memory any longer but reality.

“I don’t know…” She said, her eyes a bit lost, thinking about the past, answering him honestly. “Maybe it’s because after Noah’s death I’ve been in a bad, bad place for a very long time. Or maybe it was because back then I believed that a six years difference was way too much, or, maybe, simply, deep down we were scared of what could have happened _if_ things wouldn’t have worked out… we would have gotten joint investigations, and then we would have been all angry and dissatisfied and awkward so we preferred to stay friends for our jobs’ sake.”

“And yet, you went and moved to Los Angeles without even a goodbye kiss. That’s no Bueno, Georgina, not at all.” He chuckled, elbowing her in the side playfully. “I thought you knew I’ve never been one to turn down a party or a woman.”

She shrugged. “Some opportunities were just too good to be passed. Brenda called and offered me a place in Major Crimes, the chance of moving up in the ranks, of making some difference…” She shook her head. “When I was a teen, people never expected me to get that far. But the Major and Gibbs straitened me up. If I had made it, it would have been my way of thanking them for believing in me.”

“Still think that you passed on me, though.” He chuckled, allowed her to rest a bit against his side. “And now, what happens?” He asked, suddenly serious. 

She sighed, her eyes closed, the back of her head hitting the car. “If the DA finds out that I’ve been the one to tip the Injustice Project off, I can kiss my job goodbye. But when I heard of Kinkaid, I just couldn’t let it go. I’ve always felt that Rowell just looked _too good_ for it, but when the murders stopped, I honestly thought maybe we got the right guy, and now…”

Her phone beeped; grunting, she read the text, just to roll her eyes as she was putting away the device, back into the pocket of her jeans.

“Something interesting?” He already knew the answer, had been at the receiving end of those kind of texts as well back when he was with the NOLA PD; he wasn’t pitying her, though. He was sorry for her- _of course_ he was- but they both thought she had done the right thing.

“Haters texting and e-mailing me. The stuff literature is made of.” She turned to face Chris. “I probably ruined everything I’ve been working for. But… at least now we know that Rowell wasn’t guilty. He’ll be released, his name will be cleared, and, _maybe_ , I’ll eventually feel better.”

_ If I’ll still, have a job, _ she thought to herself, grim. Rowell’s case had taken a long time and a lot of work. She could already see the DA and her co-workers, hearing that the guy would be released even if he was perfect for the crimes- few of them had already sent her texts and e-mails to make sure she knew exactly what they thought of her.

But her real issues were going to be with the LAPD Assistant Chief. Carver had briefly been her boss back when she had started at Major Crimes in LA a few years back, at a time when Brenda had been suspended; they had always hated each other, mostly because Carver liked to antagonize Brenda and her team, just to take himself the credit when a case was closed. He also was prone to political and publicity stunts, and quick to close cases he didn’t deem worthy of his time. The jokes about only white rich people being important when dead in LA? It wasn’t a joke when it came to him. 

She could already see how he would feel, knowing that a wrongfully convicted man would be released- and probably asking for a seven or eight figures compensation. A man she had helped putting behind bars. A man who was now being released because of _her_.

“I’ve been through worse. I can handle a few vipers. Probably also working traffic. Maybe. I think?” She chuckled, just half-joking. “Worst case scenario, I’ll be begging Pride for a job. I used to waitress to make some extra-money back in the day. It wouldn’t even be my first rodeo behind the counter.”

“Not exactly the job I wanted to offer you.” She lifted an eyebrow in direction of Pride, he and Brenda slowly walking towards them as they left the NCIS building; Pride was smug and satisfied- _way too satisfied_ for his own good, and Brenda’s expression was screaming guilt. 

“I’ve handled Agent Percy over for an undercover job for a few months, and I need someone to cover for her while she is gone. Need someone to look after Christopher…”

She still looked at him quizzically- in a “ _I’m not buying it_ ” kind of way. “And your brilliant idea was to get a LA detective to fill in?” She turned to look at Brenda, who was trying to make her best “puppy-eyes” expression. “And you are ok with that?”

“Lieutenant Detective, it wouldn’t be a permanent arrangement; think of it of a student exchange. Your job will still be there when you’ll get back to LA.” Bad sign when Brenda called her with her official grade- she only did when she meant business, and when she did, there was no talking her out of it. “We both think that you may improve with a change of scenery, given the current situation at hand.”

Georgina rolled her eyes, hands on her hips, focusing not on her boss but Pride, guessing he had more to do with her current predicament than her captain did. “And, just out of curiosity, when you talk about my so-called _current situation_ , do you mean my impeding ban from the LAPD or my current feud with my family?”

Pride huffed, slightly annoyed; he didn’t blame her- he knew that Georgina Newman had a tendency to act like the smartest person in the room and didn’t take crap, didn’t like having people ordering her around, but couldn’t she, just for once, give up and admit defeat? He was trying to do her some good. He knew her- and even if she didn’t want to admit it, she needed some relief. A breath of fresh air out of Los Angeles so that she could think things through. 

She was still looking at him in that scientific kind of way, like she was examining a specimen. Like she knew he wasn’t telling the truth- or at least, not everything. “Did you happen to talk with Gibbs about this brilliant idea of yours?” She lifted an eyebrow as she asked her question; and yet, she already knew the answer. Even if she was sure that Pride would have never admitted it- not openly, at least.

“Of course not. This has nothing to do with Gibbs.” He said- shaking his head lightly, the sarcasm clear in his voice, and his smirk.

Even an idiot would have gotten it.

“Detective, just say the word, and you’ll not have to board our plane.” Brenda was looking at her in a way that Georgina knew all too well; it was a look that said _I know what you are dealing with, I went through the same things as well. And I know what’s best for you._

_ _ “I think I should inform you that I’ve already received a phone-call from Carver and one from the ADA about not knowing, understand and/or considering how much money there is behind a trial of those dimensions, how much money we’ll owe Mr. Rowell now for unjust imprisonment, what the press will say and, did we consider that we are close to election time?” She paused, turned to face Pride, slightly disgusted. “The bit about election time has been underlined many, many times by our beloved District Attorney.” 

Brenda and Pride moved away, letting Newman to muse on her decision- something that she had little to no time to reflect upon. 

“You all right?” Chris asked her, a friendly arm around her shoulder; Georgina shook her head, laughing. 

“I can’t believe that you people still gossip about me with Gibbs, years after I’ve left the city…” She was smiling- but the smile wasn’t reaching her eyes, it was tense and false and her eyes were glassy with unshed tears; she dared to lift her eyes, and met Chris’ ones. He was serious and worried, he was the kind of guy who worried about family, and who considered family his friends as well. “No, I’m not.”

He tightened his grip on her shoulder as she rested her head on his chest. “I miss them… I’ve lost my brother and I feel like I’ve lost my sister too.” She paused, closed her eyes, her voice all but a whisper caught in the breeze. “Sometimes I even think I lost myself… and now this. If I can’t be a cop, what’s left for me, Chris?”

Chris shook his head, and gently rubbed her shoulder, as she inhaled in and out, quietly, and looked at the horizon, the sun leaving room to stars that in the city couldn’t be seen, the road filled with the everlasting music that never stopped in New Orleans. 

“I think…” She started, her eyes closed and a small, bitter-sweet smile gracing her lips. “I think that I may like getting back here, after all.”

“You staying for a while?”

She chuckled. “Yeah. I think it can be arranged. Besides, Pride’s right. You need someone to look after yourself.”

He hit playfully her on the shoulder, and they both laughed.

Maybe they were right, and she just needed to put some distance between herself and her problems, so that she could fully understand what was going on and decide the best plan of action with a clear head.

Or maybe it was simply time to change: she had escaped New Orleans many years before, but Los Angeles hadn’t done her any good, despite all the promises and her hopes. There, she had barely survived, going through the motions, forgetting the woman – the _human being_ even -and being all about the cop.

Maybe, getting back to basics was what she needed to remember who she truly was, and what she truly wanted out of life.


	3. Chapter 3

“For the last time, Chris: _I can’t_ move into the Quarter!”

“Let me guess, LaSalle is playing estate agent with you too?”

Chris pointed an accusing finger at Brody- she didn’t have any right making fun of him, not when she loved the place he had found her. Not when his little sister felt the same about the little apartment he had provided for her. 

“Let me arrange a visit and you’ll see that you’ll fall in love with it!”

Georgie went and sat on Chris’ desk- something he didn’t particularly appreciated- and crossed her arms; Chris sat at his desk and turned his tablet, behaving like she wasn’t there to begin with. A bit like they were two children.

“You hate driving, and if you want to be at walking distance from here you _have_ to settle with the Quarter.” Chris kept looking at his device while he spoke, like she wasn’t even there, and he did so calmly, and was so sure of himself, of what he said, that it was quite unnerving. “Besides, girl, you’ve got _French Quarter_ written all over you.”

“First, you can’t be reading me. I’m the one with the people-reading skills. And Brody too. Second, I don’t hate driving, smartass.”

Yep, childish all right.

“Then, the reason you don’t want to move in the Quarter is that _you_ don’t want to be my semi-neighbor and you just don’t have the gut to admit it.” 

“When I say that I can’t move into the Quarter, I mean that I can’t _afford_ to move into the Quarter, not that I wouldn’t like to. I can’t even _rent_ there. Not on a cop salary.” She turned slightly to face him, eyes penetrating him like they were laser beams. There was a part of her that was just getting annoyed with him, as he had been trying to get her to move in said apartment since Day One, and that part of her was just _that close_ to start being mean. 

Two minutes, another remark and she was going to tell him something in the line of _not everyone’s lucky enough to be from Old Oil Money, sweetie_.

Only, she groaned inside, she doubted she would. She could be mean- God and her siblings knew that. But not so much. Not when she knew that Christopher and his father had had such a troubled relationship, that the old man had died unsatisfied and bitter because neither of his sons- especially Christopher, the Crown Jewel of the LaSalle family- hadn’t followed into his footsteps, nor had oil in their veins.

“So you _want_ to be my neighbor.” He grinned satisfied. 

“That’s not what I’m saying, and anyway, I thought you said it’s few minutes from your building, which means that I wouldn’t be your neighbor.” She pouted. He had always loved when she did that. That pout made her lips very, very kissable. Not that he had never thought _too much_ about that. He wondered, thought, if she knew this little piece of information and liked to use it against him.

“If I were to live five minutes from you, I’d be at your place the whole time. Just saying.”

Brody snapped her tongue against her cheek. “You know that you are giving her a reason _not_ to move close to you, right?”

As the very mature man he could be, Chris balled up a sheet of paper and threw it at Brody, who took it and sent it back at his own address, sticking her tongue out.

“C’mon Georgina…” He was sing-songing. Their conversation was getting on border-line ridiculous, they were practically proving Pride right: how many times had he called them “children” since their first case together a long time before?

She sighed, her eyes closed. “If I say yes, will you stop calling me Georgina? I hate it.”

He shook his head, smiling. “Cannot do. That’s your name, ma’am.”

“Technically, Georgina’s my middle name, _and_ I’m pretty sure you know it.”

“I know that, _Christina Georgina Newman_ , but there’s only room for one Chris here.”

Brody snickered, which got a death glare in answer from Newman. “Why can’t you and Pride be like any other cop and federal agent I’ve met in my very long career and just call me by my surname? _New-man._ Can’t you see how it slips on your tongue? It’s even easier than _Georgina.”_

She made a face, quite disgusted. If there was something she enjoyed less than her middle name, was having LaSalle calling her by it- or even just thinking about him calling her like that- just to get a rise out of her.

He made a comment about Georgina being a nice southern name, and immediately she threw him a balled up sheet of paper, just like he had done before with Brody; grinning, Chris received it like it was a tennis ball- with his tablet. The same tablet he then offered her, one eyebrow lifted.

“What’s that?” She asked him, skeptical, before taking the device from his own hands.

“It’s called a tablet. It’s a technological device that implements the working of both a computer and a phone in a shape that’s smaller than a computer but bigger than the average smartphone.”

Newman chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah, listen, you know that sarcasm is considered the lowest form of wit, right?”

“Any kind of wit is still good for me, Georgina.” He chuckled as well, smiling, and went at her side. “Those, Georgina dearest, are pictures of your future apartment.”

“In your cloud?! Seriously, Chris, how many people do you know that are renting off apartments?” Meredith went behind them and got a glimpse of the pictures, all clearly home-made and definitely not professional, nor to be used under any professional guise. “Quarter’s not my thing, but you could have at least showed them to me!”

“Place belongs to a former detective I worked with back when I was NOLA PD. Got married and moved up north six months ago, still haven’t been able to sell it yet. Its’ still on the market, that’s why it’s just a week by week deal.” Chris rolled his eyes and put the tablet once again in Georgina’s hands, his gaze on Brody. “Besides, you are no Quarter girl, Brody, but _you_ so are, Georgina dear.”

She sighed, pouted. “I don’t want to see it just to fall in love with the place and then discover that, after all, I can’t move in there... it would be…”

“You are not dating an apartment. You are not marrying an apartment. You can go and give a look at this apartment and it’s not gonna be awkward if you’ll not take it.” Chris rolled his eyes, took back his tablet. “Besides, you can’t keep living in a B&B.”

Georgina sighed; part of her didn’t want to give in to Chris’ demands, fearing that, with him, it would only be the beginning, but he had picked up her curiosity, ignited it with those simple shoots. 

“Can you arrange a visit?”

Chris practically beamed with happiness and pride. “I’ve got one even better: I have the keys. First moment you are free, we are a go.”

* * *

They didn’t talk about it for another couple of days, though; they had gotten a case, that had turned into a _bigger case_ and had given them more problems than what they had originally assumed. 

It was already night, and Pride had already gone to tend to the bar, when Meredith retreated to join her boss. 

“You coming along?” She asked as she was practically already out of the door; Georgie was tempted; she hadn’t had dinner yet, and she would have found food at Pride’s. _But_ , he would have probably asked her to help him out, like he always did with all the members of the team, and she was so tired she could barely stand, let alone work some more.

“Nah, I think I’ll pass. I may have a date with some fluffy pillows, after all.” She smiled, that tired smile of hers, that it didn’t reach her eyes, then she grabbed from the back of the chair her leather jacket and her purse from her closed drawer, and walked out; she checked the time, wondered where and when the next bus would stop so that she could go back “home”, when Chris sprinted before her and stopped in front of her petite frame.

“Hi?” She asked, smiling- a smile that, he noticed, that time was reaching her eyes, maybe because it was embedded with curiosity. And, who knew, maybe, deep, deep down, even affection. 

“Let’s make a deal.” He was a bit too serious, Georgie realized, but, gulping down a mouthful of saliva, she realized that in his eyes she could just see how much… _fond_ of her he was; she had always considered Chris a good friend, and she knew he felt the same, but she knew also something else- a terrible truth that had driven her away from New Orleans many years before: she had always liked Chris LaSalle a bit _too much_ \- which was a recipe for potential heart-break.

“Let’s go and see the apartment. It’s just five minutes from here by foot. Then we grab a bite and I drive you back to your B&B.”

She took a big breath, wondering what she was supposed to say: it sounded an awfully lot like _a date_.

But then again, they were merely “grabbing a bite”. And besides, it was just so that she could see the place. Because they had been clear about the whole thing. They couldn’t date. She had reminded him all the reasons they had never done so just a few weeks before, when she had landed back in town. And Chris was a smart man, who wasn’t the type to sleep where he ate- a man who was acting a bit childish in his way of moving on, but ehy, she wasn’t one to talk. If he thought that sleeping around and partying all night long could get him closure, so be it. Not everyone could be like her who had compartmentalized her feelings after her husband’s loss and got lost in the job, turning into an Ice Queen..

So, it was ok. She could do it. 

“All right.” She shrugged, and Chris simply nodded, proud of himself. 

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew her. He could read Georgina all right: she thought it wasn’t a date- but he was going to prove her wrong. He would show her domesticity, gave her dreams and hopes and he was going to charm his way into her life. Slowly. Killing her reserves softly. And then, before she could see it- before she could realize it- it would be time to get back to Los Angeles, but getting on a plane would be the last thing on her mind.

_ He _ would be. And _staying_.

In an hot, Alabama summer, Christopher LaSalle had told his brother that he had met the woman he would have married- and then, he had lost her; Savannah had been the one who had gotten away. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

_ I’ve got her, Cade. _ He thought, already foreseeing what he would have said to his big brother on their next phone call. _I’ve got the girl of my dreams. And this time, I’m not letting her go._

* * *

“I thought you would have been more thrilled.” Chris ate his Boudin Balls with Garlic Aioli while walking at Georgie’s side; they had taken different things from the _Que Crawl_ food truck – Georgie had chosen french fries with Parmesan Reggiano -each of them paying for themselves (“ _It’s not a date, Chris, I can’t have you paying me dinner!_ ”), and yet, they were stealing food from each other.

“Uhm. I don’t get exited easily. When you live in a base as long as I did, you learn that there’s no need for anything fancy.” She said with a mouthful of food. “But yeah, I love it. So, if you can get me this lovely apartment for so little, I’m on board.”

Chris was going to answer her that, _of course_ he could get her the apartment at the promised price, maybe adding some flirt to it, even, when he heard someone calling him at his back. 

“Yo! LaSalle!”

They both turned, and saw a guy approaching them- a bit older than Chris himself, dark, tall, dressed carefully and with an high-end suite, with the weird, and yet stylish, addiction of a leather jacket.

Chris did his best to smile and greeted his friend despite the burning desire of being anywhere but there: he was trying to charm a lady, and he didn’t want to have an audience, or having Georgina find an excuse to bail on him. ”Keith Trevor! Long time no seeing!”

“Well, hello!” Chris rolled his eyes as Keith, still shaking his hand, turned a lecherous gaze on Geordie, turning on the charm. He chuckled. Like he hadn’t invented the trick himself… “Sorry I ruined your date… didn’t see you were in good company.”

Chris gnashed; he wasn’t an idiot, he had known Keith a long time, and his “friend”, if he could be called like that, knew _exactly_ what he was doing. It was probably some kind of payback for some date he had ruined to Keith himself in the past.

“Oh, no, It’s not a date. We are not dating. We just work together.” She felt the need to clarify, but her cheeks were red, and her voice low and hoarse; Chris grinned a little at that, hoping that it was for him- that she just didn’t know what he wanted and was wondering the same things he did; was he pissed that she was dismissing the idea of dating him? Of course. But at least she was almost stuttering.

“That’s Georgie Newman, my new partner. Georgie, that’s Keith Trevor, my _former_ partner. Way back when I was NOLA PD…” He introduced the two of them. Casually. Like often people did. Why shouldn’t he have done otherwise, after all? He didn’t want to seem the odd man out, or creepy.

“I can speak for myself, Chris, thank you very much.” She shook Keith’s hand, a little too flirty for Chris’ taste. “ _Detective_ Trevor, nice to meet you.” 

She was still holding his hand, and her eyes had fallen on the badge around his neck- a golden shield; she was so taken by _him_ that shedidn’t even notice that Chris had been introducing her with her nickname, and not, like usual, Georgina - a name that he had turned into a pet-name when it came to him, something that he alone wanted to use for her, nor with her full name.

Chris cleared his throat, not wanting to be the third wheel- something that Keith was supposed to be. And yet his “friend” wasn’t getting any hint; he and Georgie kept talking and gossiping about people she had metsince her return and he knew and it felt like it had passed an eternity when it had been merely few minutes.

Chris shook his head, trying to insert himself in the discussion when they started talking about a detective they had been working with during their last case and whom Keith knew personally. It couldn’t be too late. Ok, Georgie seemed to fancy Keith, but hey, it didn’t have to mean anything. She could still be his.

After all, they had just met Keith by chance. She was probably going to forget all about him in a matter of hours anyway.

Like it hadn’t happened at all. 


	4. Chapter 4

Sonja was working a case with them between undercover assignments; she and LaSalle were still in “work-married” mode (something that Georgie, too firmly believed in), and were sharing a lot- pretty much everything. Which meant that, even if he hadn’t said at loud to Sonja that he _did_ like Georgina Newman, she had understood it all right. 

“So, Country Mouse, does your Belle know she is spoken for?” Late at night, they were outside a crime scene, ready to enter once NOLA PDwould give them free reign; Pride was still inside, and they were all parked out waiting for Loretta and dear old Georgina.

“Uh?” He mumbled- a bit annoyed that Percy would refer to all the women he dated and/or approached as Disney characters- and lifted his eyes from his camera. And here they were, Loretta and _his_ Georgie; Loretta was probably, knowing her, coming from one of her poker nights, while there was no doubt that _his_ Georgie had been out.

Brody chuckled, titling her head to the side. “Killer heels. You don’t wear them for your girlfriends…”

Sonja elbowed Chris in the side and rolled her eyes, a bit annoyed. She had always knew that Chris could be an idiot when it came to women, but here he was reaching new highs; first, as far as she knew, he wasn’t admitting that he liked the girl- and even if he did, she feared that, still burned by Savannah, his idea could be something in the line of _“yeah, I like her, as far as a roll in the hay goes”_ and not what she had assumed from his words, aka “ _yeah, that’s the future mother of my children. Deal with it”,_ second, he wasn’t letting her know he was available and willing, and third, she doubted the girl liked her men on the drooling side.

Because Christopher LaSalle was drooling open-mouthed, like he had never seen a pretty woman with heels dressed to the nines.

“Dwayne’s not here yet?” Loretta asked, looking confused.

“Pride’s inside, sorting jurisdiction out.” Sonja answered; then, smiling, she took a step toward Georgina and offered the older woman her hand in greeting. “Sonja Percy. You must be Newman, right?”

“The work-wife isn’t calling me Georgina….” Georgie chuckled and was more than glad to shake Sonja’s hand. “Percy, just for the record: I already like you.”

Sonja chuckled. “Couldn’t call you anything you don’t like even if Country Mouse here forced me to. I worked with Colby Granger back in my ATF days, best partner I could have ever asked for. He says a loooot of good things about you. Which, I tell you, is not an easy feat.”

“Is someone enjoying the NOLA scene?” Brody asked Georgie, a bit malicious, her eyes on the high heeled sandals and her pedicured dark violet toenails. “Let me guess, Trevor again?”

“Uh? What? Trevor? As in, _Detective Keith Trevor? That_ Trevor? My friend Trevor?” Chris had suddenly lost interest in feet and shoes and tattoos and was now totally back with the living ones, thinking the most awful and hatred thoughts. _And why is Brody the one knowing about it?_

“Didn’t know I had to ask your permission to ask him out.” Georgie rolled her eyes, and Chris started to see red.

_ Of course _ she didn’t need his permission to date- yeah, he had a thing for her, but it wasn’t like she had gotten it through that thick head of hers, nor he had been open with her about whatever there was – and had always been -between them.

The fact was that, on the other side, he had been pretty clear _with Keith_ about where he wanted to stay with the girl, and there was a bro code. So, even if she had been the one doing the asking, _Keith_ should have told her no!

_ They were having breakfast at some cheap bar downtown, reminiscing about old times’ sakes, something they used to do every now and then, when Keith broke the silence. _

_ “C’mon, fella, I know you’ve got love for li’l’ ol’ me, but not enough to offer me breakfast just because!” _

_ Chris laughed. “Me? Buying? The only reason I keep buying you breakfast it’s because you’ve got the magical power of making your wallet disappear!” He chuckled. “Besides, you’re a little too hairy for my taste!” _

_ They laughed together, a nice reminder of the camaraderie of old times, when, over a decade before, they had been both investigators- it felt like a lifetime before, and for Chris it was, so much had changed -so much  _ he _had changed since those days._

_ “So… Georgie…” Keith asked, sipping his now cold coffee. “Am I stepping on any toes here?” _

_ Chris sighed, his coffee forgotten. “Honestly? I don’t know. I mean… I think I may like her, but I don’t think she is interested.” He grinned. “At least, that’s what she says.” _

_ Keith chuckled, sipping the semi-cold beverage. “Gotcha. I’ll keep it in mind, pal.”  _

“I’m just saying, drop it. Say what you want, but you are the kind of girl who sees bells and flowers whenever dating is involved. I bet you even arranged a few weddings. And I dare to say that you were always the maid of honor, right?” Georgie said, and Chris again “uh-ed” as he had been, yet again, lost in his thoughts; Brody, Loretta and Georgie were talking a few meters from him- and somehow Georgie now wore pocket ballerinas- while Sonya was right before him at crossed arms. Annoyed. 

“Let me guess, it didn’t even crossed your mind that she could actually date someone else.” She sighed.

Chris lifted an eyebrow, tried to be his charming self, the happy-go-lucky guy always ready for some fun and a party or two. “Thought you were fine with me moving on in any way I wanted to.”

Sonja grunted, pinching the bridge of her nose. She didn’t care if Chris had been an agent longer than her, she didn’t care if he was older; thought love was in order. “Absolutely! But I’m not OK with you being a stupid idiot!”

_ Uh, no nicknames _ , he wondered. Sonja was really mad… and worried. It was a good thing, though, it meant she still cared even if she wasn’t with them full-time any longer. But, still, he didn’t want her to- as an undercover cop, she needed to keep her head in the game, not in his non-existent love life.

Chris shook his head. “That’s fine. It’s not like we exchanged rings or whatever.”

He went into the warehouse, ready to get a look at the crime-scene, trying to dismiss it all. Even the fact that Sonja, at his back, was mumbling and grunting her annoyance with him. 

* * *

It went on for a couple of months- sometimes Keith even came by the squad room in the evenings to get her, mostly if he wanted to walk her home or he thought she would join him for dinner; other than that, though, if it weren’t for Brody’s comments every now and then, Chris would have never guessed Georgie was dating his “friend”. 

And yet, _he knew_ it all too well, and it stung; first, because Keith knew and he hadn’t taken a step back like he had promised, and second, because Chris himself had asked her out for months back in the day, and he had done so again since her return in New Orleans, only to be blown off every time with the excuse of work. That it would have made things awkward. Well, she hadn’t thought so with Keith. Instead, she had been the one to ask him out, the hell if they had to work together on a case or whatever. Which meant, work wasn’t the issue. _He_ was. She didn’t want to have – to pursue - a relationship with him.

He saw red. Wanted to hurt his so-called friend, wanted to scream at her, demand what the hell was wrong with himself. That it was all her fault if he couldn’t even have fun any longer. Because he knew that he had wondered why not having a no strings attached things since her time there was counted, but then, then she had come and showed him her good side and that it was all right to fall in love again. To dream of a tomorrow without feeling the pain of betrayal, the guilt stinging at his very soul.

And _now_ he had to go and work a case with them.

“Something’s wrong?” Georgie asked him casually, kneeling right at the side of the body; he grunted something in response, then went on to keep taking pictures. She grunted in response. “You know Chris, I don’t talk caveman. So if you could tell me what I did or didn’t do in English, it’d be terrific.”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Guess I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“And whose bed would it be, lover-boy?” Brody chuckled; he didn’t dignified her with an answer, but smiled proud and arrogant- even if he was lifting quizzically his eyebrows- when he noticed that Georgie was tensing hearing about his (non-existent) nightly escapades.

She was no prude, and she knew they were adults and that it was normal having sex; so it couldn’t be that. If she was so tense, so uncomfortable, then there had to be another reason. 

Maybe she wasn’t as immune to his charms as she pretended to be.

Keith left Pride’s side and joined them; he was dressed not as casually as the weeks before, and both Chris and Brody immediately noticed that something had mysteriously returned- he was spotting again a wedding band, which, thank God almighty, lacked on Georgie’s left hand. “Ok guys, case’s all yours, NOLA PD is officially off.” He chuckled. “Good luck with that.”

“Wow. Cold much, uh?” Brody asked, her voice low. “You would never say that you’ve been dating for _months_.”

“We broke up a few weeks ago.” Georgie kept looking at the body, at Loretta’s side, without even lifting her eyes; her tone was flat, just like she was talking about the weather. “He’s back with his ex-wife, I wasn’t in for the long run anyway.” She explained when silence followed her statement.

Chris wanted to chuckle; one of the reasons he hadn’t really been all too happy with Georgie and Keith together was that the guy just wasn’t enough for her. He was just so… _so wrong_. Not that he was any better, Chris knew he was no saint, but Keith was a self-centered ass-hole; he was easy-maintenance, in a way, and his Georgina _needed_ to be challenged.

Seriously, why had he been so mad and worried to begin with? _Of course_ it wouldn’t have lasted! He should have known it to being with… which meant, he could get back at wine and dine her and try to get into her good graces- her bed and eventually her life. For Good

She didn’t know it yet- but Georgina Newman wasn’t going back to Los Angele any longer. Not if he could get a saying in it.

* * *

“You’ve got something for us?” Georgie walked into Loretta’s lab, hands in the pockets of her jeans, sunglasses on despite being inside; she gave a quick look at the body the doctor was still examining, and suddenly, she had to turn and pinch her nose, another hand covering her mouth as a bolt of nausea hit her pretty hard. 

“Did someone partied too much and too hard last night?” Loretta laughed. “Wouldn’t blame you if you did. Because last night I won _big.”_ She ended the sentence sing-songing, then turned to look at Georgie, still in the corner on the verge of throwing up. “Georgie?”

Newman shook her head. “Yeah. Sorry. Must have eaten something bad that doesn’t go along with cadavers.” She tried to make fun of the topic, but, as she tried to laugh, another bolt of nausea wrenched her, bigger this time, and a pounding in her head; without asking for permission, she _had_ to take a basin, and she just relieved herself.

“Uhm, sorry.” She asked, candidly, using the walls to stay up. “I’ve been feeling awful this morning. Hoped that it would have changed, but it hasn’t worked so far…” 

Worried, Loretta took off her gloves and checked her temperature, forcing Georgie to take off her sunglasses; she was fresh- cold even- but she looked awful, her color and her dark circles clear indication.

“You want me to get you some coffee?” Loretta asked her, but at the mere pronounce of the word, Georgie was already again ready to vomit her soul. 

“I’ll take that as a no, then.” Loretta sighed; with Georgie still on the floor, the doctor stood and went looking for something in a cabinet; soon she was back with a syringe. “Georgie, when was the last time you had your cycle?”

She shook her head. “No…” She whispered.

“Georgie… you are tired, you’ve got headache, nausea, things you’ve never minded before, such as bodies and coffee, are making you feel awful. Those are pregnancy symptoms.” Loretta was talking with her calmly, quietly, like she was explaining something that was both easy to understand and yet hard to accept, she was distracting her so much that the cop didn’t even notice that Loretta had taken her blood. 

“No, just, no. I’m almost forty, and besides, I haven’t been with anyone in more than a month…”

“No one knows they are pregnant in their first month, honey.”

But Georgie kept shaking her head, moving her hands erratically. “No, I mean, I know. Just, it can’t be. Because we’ve always been careful. _Always_!” She was still on the floor, but she seemed more… relaxed, and it was clear she was starting to feel better. 

Loretta shook her head, one hand on her hip. “There’s always a four percent chance of pregnancy, even in case of birth control.”

“When girls are twenty-four and at the peak of the fertility, I get it. But,” She stood up and got back to Loretta, and decided she had to try to face the body once and for all. “but I’m almost forty. Which is the _lowest_ of my fertility.”

Loretta sighed, getting exasperated. “Is that your way of telling me that you’ve missed your period lately?”

Georgie shrugged. “It’s probably early menopause?” She didn’t know if she was making an assumption or asking a question. 

“Honey, I’m going to analyze your blood, but let’s be honest, we both know that it’s coming back positive, so stop burying that pretty head of yours in the sand and start seriously thinking about this, all right?” _Because you and Christopher had been doing it for way too long_ …

Georgie rolled her eyes, sighing defeated. “Just, could we please keep it between us? Whatever the result is. I just… I know that the first few months are…” She choose the words that would fit the situation better, carefully, like, deepdown, she already knew the truth, but wasn’t ready to face it in front of the others. “… They are dangerous. I just don’t want to… have something happen to the baby and have people pitying me, all right?”

“All right, if that’s what you wish.” Loretta chuckled, her eyes sweet and full of understanding as she looked at the woman in front of her and _envied_ her a little- only chance had given her children, and they were already fully grown-up. “Now, getting back to our departed Mr. Sorenson…”


	5. Chapter 5

Chris wasn’t going to lie: he was starting to get worried about Georgie- he had been for a few weeks, actually; but today, he had understood that something was _definitely_ wrong with her; during their last bust she had been shot at, and yet, even if hervest had absorbed it, she had looked like she was worried, maybe even deeply scared- like on the verge of a panic attack. 

Something that didn’t make any sense, because she had been a cop for, like, half her life; it wasn’t the first time she got a bullet, and besides, she wore a _vest_ , for Christ’s sake. She had to know that she hadn’t been in any danger. What was the worst that could have happened? A bruised rib? Ok, it hurt like hell- he was the first one to admit it- but, still, the look in her eyes when she got shot…

Maybe it was some kind of epiphany. Was she still pining after Keith, he wondered? He knew it had been a semi-amicable break-up, and yes, she insisted she and his former partner were just having some fun, but maybe she was lying. Maybe there had been more between them than what she cared to admit. 

Or maybe he was only projecting- and _protecting_ himself. If Georgie was emotionally unavailable, then they couldn’t get involved, and if they didn’t get involved, he couldn’t get hurt again; maybe, deep down, as much as he liked her- and damn, he _did_ like Georgina Newman- he wasn’t ready for stability. Maybe there was no girlfriend, wife or kids on the way for him; maybe all he could get out of life (and love) was just fun. He had found his system to move on, to keep living, after all, and he had been fine with it until that moment. More than fine, actually. 

And yet… he couldn’t stop worrying about her. Georgie was always there, in the back of his mind. And he hated it- hated that the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to be with her. The more he wanted _her_.

He shook his head. It wasn’t the time to worry- or even _think-_ about Georgina dearest. He needed his head back in the game, and that was why he had come to see the kids at the hospital. Seeing them always gave him prospective, remembered him of what truly mattered. 

(And besides, the nice nurse who had given him her number the last time had said something about needing new toys for the children- and it wasn’t like he didn’t have enough money to buy a few toys.)

And that was when he saw _her,_ pacing in front of a door, hands in the pockets of her jeans.

Chris shook his head, blinked once, twice, just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, that it wasn’t only in his head, but no- Georgie was really there, still looking like a scared animal; he thought about joining her, but then he decided not to. He didn’t like secrets, knew that all of them worked at their best when they knew everything, but he wasn’t going to force this, whatever it was, out of her.

Before he could talk himself out of this decision, a young doctor- a woman who looked incredibly like a doctor he had seen in Peds a few times, working with newborns- arrived and opened the closed door, Georgie following her inside, hesitant and scared- the same look Chris had seen on the Doctor’s face, even from afar.

_ God, no _ , he thought. She was sick. Something was wrong with her. Maybe she was dying. And the whole time, he had been wondering if maybe the reason her head wasn’t in the game as usual was because she was in love with a jerk- a jerk that had _dared_ to leave her for his ex-wife. 

Bags of toys forgotten, like on auto-pilot, Chris walked towards the door; he wanted to walk quicker, and yet, he didn’t want to at the same time, fearing that each step would bring him closer to losing her once for all- _for real_.

He took a big breath. Closed his eyes and readied himself for the worst. He wondered what he could do- what he _wanted_ to do, were something bad going to happen. Was he going to tell her that she was always on his mind? For what purpose, if he would be losing her anyway? Would he have suffered less this time, knowing that the end was coming?

He didn’t know. He could try to be as rational as he wanted, but he was scarred by loss, and he didn’t know how much he could still handle. If something was wrong with Georgie, he wanted to be at her side, wanted to be there to help her out- he just didn’t know if he was actually strong enough to do any of it.

And then… then he reached the door, and he finally dared to look at the sign on it- he read the name of the doctor, and her specialty, and he knew that he hadn’t been wrong. 

She _was_ indeed the doctor from Peds.

Fear and worry were replaced by rage and jealousy and something hot and bright inside of him, like an everlasting furnace in the deepest recess of his soul;she was his partner. And she was keeping _this_ a secret from him. She was the woman he had tried to charm, tried to seduce- the woman he was… _falling_ _in love_ with- and Keith had known it when he had lured her into his bed. Chris knew he wasn’t better than his old partner, that, at the beginning, his own intentions hadn’t been the purest, and all right- Keith had never promised her anything, and she had been fine with it. 

But Keith had crossed _him_. Had won her affections over to… spite him, prove a point, or whatever. Something Chris would have never done- not to his partner, not to his friend.

But what was worse was the fact that Keith had gone and done the unthinkable: he had betrayed his friend,seduced Georgie, just to decide that after all, deep down, he was still in love with his ex-wife, that he didn’t need her nor in his bed or in his life. Keith had been only a blip on Georgie’s radar, as far as they were all concerned. And Georgie had been merely another notch on his bedpost. It hadn’t lasted long- only a few months- and yet… yet his “friend” had gone and done something that none of them would ever forget.

Keith had gotten _his_ Georgina pregnant.

* * *

Had someone asked him two hours before what he was going to do with this brand new piece of information, Chris LaSalle would have answered with one simple word: _nothing_. 

Not because it wasn’t his business- Georgie was his partner and he still believed that the more he knew, the less secrets there were between them, the better they could work together (and yes- he was falling in love with her. He was finally ready to fully accept it).

It was just that… it was _huge_. Something she was probably still elaborating herself. Besides, all right, he did have his opinions, but so did she, and what did he know about them? She was his partner, and maybe, just maybe, they were starting to be good (best?) friends- a surrogate family of sort, even- but she had been in New Orleans for less than six months. How deeply could they know each other? Maybe she hadn’t said a word because she didn’t want to keep… _it_. 

And yet… as soon as he had read the sign on the door, discovered she was seeing an OBG, he had understood that she _wanted_ that baby: she had been hit by a bullet- even if only in the vest; she had been worried, scared and she had run to see her doctor.

That wasn’t how a woman who wanted to- God help him- _get rid of a problem_ behaved. 

No- that was how a mother- a _mum_ \- behaved, the same way his mom did when pregnant with Kathy, with her OBG on speed dial ready to answer each and every question, reassuring her when she simply decided then and there that there was something wrong with her baby girl.

And his mother had been pregnant with her _third_ child, back then. Had a husband – not the most perfect specimen, but a husband nevertheless – and two sons at her side- Cade had even already been a teenager at the time.

Georgie, instead, was all alone: Keith had left her to get back to his ex - and Chris bet he wasn’t even aware of Georgie’s pregnancy- and her family, what was left it anyway, was scattered between San Diego, Los Angeles and New York. Not that she was talking with any of them anyway, though.

In New Orleans, she didn’t have anyone, only the team, and he was the only one who had learnt her secret- albeit by pure chance.

She needed him. She didn’t know it yet, but she needed him- or at least, she was going to. She couldn’t carry such a weight on her shoulders all alone. It was time she understood he was going to be there for her. That she could rely on him, always.

That was why, and how, he found himself knocking at her door at half past nine PM. 

“Ehy! We got a case?” She asked as soon as she opened the door; Chris studied her, intensely, looked for signs that something was wrong or even just different, but he didn’t find any; there were lines between her eyes, on her forehead, but he guessed it had more to do with the fact that he wasn’t answering her question more than something wrong with her baby; he could see that she was at ease, even relaxed, with her grey silky pyjama, slightly masculine in its lines, barefoot, her hair tangled in a messy, simple knot.

“Chris? Is it about a case?” She repeated, snapping her fingers in front of his eyes like to wake him up from his reverie. 

“Uhm? No. I just wanted…” He took a big breath, wondering if going in for the killing with _to talk about your pregnancy_ was the best opening line. 

“Yes?...” She lifted an eyebrow, encouraging him to try to end his sentence once and for all, and smiled a little with those thin, pink lips of hers.

He _loved_ her lips. Wanted to kiss them until they were bruised.

He didn’t know what to do. Until now, the only pregnant woman he had had to deal with had been his mother- and back then, he had been only six years old. How was he supposed to break the ice? He _needed_ to talk with her, but he was still outside. She could still have decided to slam the door shout in his face. 

And then, he got an idea. Well- half of it, at least. 

She lived just a few minutes from his place. They had similar tastes when it came to food. He could have used it as an excuse.

“…Coffee. I’m out of it. The good stuff we both like.”

Georgie tried her best not to laugh and shook her head, the knot of her hair coming half-undone as she did so, and as she gave him her back and marched toward the kitchen, Chris actually _reached_ for her, wanting to run his fingers through the brown tresses, to put those renegade locks behind her ears. 

He gulped down a mouthful of saliva and chastised himself just when he was mere inches from her. He couldn’t do it- not now, at least. She had too many things running through her head- too much to deal with. He couldn’t add his attraction to her to the mix: not yet, at least.

He blindly followed her to the kitchen, and when she passed him a closed coffee packet, he reached for it, and their fingers met; he held her hands in his own, and looked down at her with an intensity that took her breath away.

She knew that it was stupid believing that he had gotten to her place for a mere packet of coffee- she hadn’t bought his lie for one second- but the look in his eyes told her he was there for something serious. Chris was worried- there was something _very_ wrong, otherwise he would have done like usual, and bottled it up until it was too late. 

_ Family,  _ she guessed- that was what usually had Chris so worried. Work, he would have normally talked about – King’s teaching- so, Cade, maybe? In the past, she would have said it was about his father, but Nicholas LaSalle had been dead for a good five years now.

Still holding hands, she opened her mouth as to speak, but he didn’t gave her time, and decided it was now or never. She needed to understand he was there for her. That she could rely on him. _Now._ And yet… even if he knew what he wanted to tell her, once again words escaped him, and he had to beat around the bush. 

“I volunteer at the hospital,” he started, and she nodded, for she already knew it and appreciated him just a little bit more for this. “I… I was there today. When you went to see your doctor?”

“Oh.” She simply breathed out, taking a step back and freeing herself from his grasp; she rested her back against the cold refrigerator, and started to play with the hem of her shirt, not really knowing what she was supposed to do with her hands now that they had lost Chris’ warmth.. “Oh.”

She knew only one thing for sure: she didn’t know how to face Chris. Or the rest of the team, for what mattered. _Did he tell them?_ She wondered, her eyes as huge as saucers.

They stayed in silence for what felt an eternity- but was actually mere minutes- until Chris, now sat on her kitchen table, right in front of Georgie, decided to break the silence.

“Is everything all right? With the baby, I mean.”

Georgie lifted her eyes from the floor, and, biting her lips, nodded; she was hugging herself, protecting herself from the chilly night, and from Chris’ intense gaze, his deep scrutiny as well. 

“I’m… in my tenth week.” She suddenly said, her cheeks reddening of the loveliest shade of dark pink, her voice as unsure as never before, a far cry from the competent and hard-assed cop he had known for a while. “Everything is all right. The vest absorbed the majority of the impact anyway. I was just… being extra careful, I guess.”

Chris chuckled, committing to memory every bit of data he could. She was lovely. And she was already a mum, in her heart.

“Have you told Pride?” She asked, even if she already knew the answer. Had he told Pride, they would be having this discussion at the office, and not in her kitchen while she was in a pyjama. 

Chris didn’t answer. He simply glared at her. 

Well, she guessed she deserved it. 

“It’s not what you think.” She stated, rolling her eyes; Chris chuckled once again, and lifted an eyebrow in answer. 

“Oh? And what am I thinking?”

“I’m not an idiot. I know I can’t keep it a secret for the rest of my life. I just wanted to be sure… I want to know that, when I’ll tell everyone the news, I’ll be able to… that I will not lose the baby.” She took a big breath. “The second trimester. That’s when I’ll tell everyone.”

“I’ll try to act surprised. Don’t want to give people ideas.” She laughed, for she knew that Percy and Patton were gossiping about them, wondering if they had already gotten in bed together- she didn’t know it yet, but Percy actually _hoped_ he would get his shit together and just drag her to bed. “You going to keep it?”

She nodded. “I’m almost forty. It’s probably my last chance anyway.”

Nodding, Chris jumped down from the table and went to her; Georgie gasped, not scared, but surprised and excited, as he run his hands through her locks; she closed her eyes, expecting- _fearing_ \- a kiss, but instead than her lips, he went for her forehead.

He didn’t say a word. He just smiled, and walked out of the door; when she finally understood he wasn’t at her side any longer, Georgie felt as cold as never before. Cold- and alone. 

Left only with the memory of Chris’ tender touches, she hugged her belly, caressed it hoping that her baby would feel her reassurances- hoping, deep down, that her own baby would reassure her through the deep bond they already shared.

She wanted- _needed_ \- to know that she hadn’t done a mistake. One after the other. And yet, there was no lying: she did. She knew she did. She should have chosen Chris all along. 

But now, she feared it could be too late: late, and just plain unfair towards him.


	6. Chapter 6

“If something like that happens ever again, I’ll lie trough my teeth.” 

Chris merely lifted an eyebrow when Georgie slammed the door of the car shout, buckling up without giving him a second glance. She had been like that for the whole morning, mad with him for some unknown reason.

_ Eh,  _ he thought to himself. No wonder people assumed they were sleeping together. She _did_ behave like a scorned lover at times.

For the first half of the trip to the crime scene, she didn’t say a word, just mumbled, and sent death glares in his general direction when she believed he wasn’t looking her way. 

_ Hormones? _ He wondered not for the first time. She was pregnant. And, after discovering her “little secret”, he had noticed small changes in her, too. Maybe this was just a little something else to add to the mix. 

God. He hoped not. He liked her- and liked _working_ with her. But another 30 weeks like that? He didn’t think that he could handle it, not even with all his best intentions. 

Maybe a direct approach was in order.

And a trip to the bookstore. His memory was a little bit rusty since his mother’s third pregnancy, and, as her partner and the person who spent the majority of the time around her, he felt compelled to be ready to face, well, pretty much anything. Pregnancy-wise, of course. 

“Georgina?” He tentatively looked at her, then gulped down a mouthful of saliva and went back to focus on the road as she was giving him her best killer expression. “Ehm. So, _Newman._ Did I do something wrong?” 

She groaned, lifted her hands to the sky, exasperated, like she couldn’t believe him. 

“You have to ask? Christopher,” She used his full name, which meant she was very, very mad with him.“You are telling everyone that I’m expecting a baby!”

“Uh?” He didn’t bother to sound smarter, or end the sentence, or even just say more. Because he didn’t know how to answer to that. Because, what the hell? He hadn’t done such a thing!

“Chris, you are _pampering_ me. This morning you even got me a soya latte with decaffeinated coffee- which is not coffee, by the way. So next time keep it for yourself, thank you very much.”

“Not my fault you are not looking after yourself!” He sounded very matter-of-fact, extremely casual. Like it was a kind of discussion they had every day.

Like it was the kind of discussion he was supposed to have with her- he was _entitled_ to have.

_ Like it was my baby,  _ he thought, gulping. A thought he had no business thinking. 

She wasn’t his, after all. Never had been. He had tried- asked her why she had turned him down in the past, asked her to stop, rethink it- although not so clearly or in so many words. But she hadn’t done any of it; instead, she had gone and chosen another man.

She groaned, rolled her eyes, and felt defeated as she stole a glance at him, smiling all proud and arrogant; she guessed he had tried to be nice, after all. 

“Just for the record, soy milk makes me nauseous. _AND_ I’m entitled to _one_ cup of coffee per day.”

He chuckled, and so did she, and leaning her head on the headrest, she turned a little bit in his direction, and studied Chris’ profile enlightened by the sun beans. 

“You know, you are allowed to ask me things, Chris. Otherwise, where would be the fun of sharing a secret?” He laughed, and stood a little in silence, his eyes on the road, hers on him- something he was well aware of.

And yet, the silence, the intimacy, didn’t bother him one tiny bit: it was peaceful, refreshing. He had missed it. Hadn’t felt anything like that since Savannah, and for the first time since Savannah, he didn’t feel guilty about thinking of a tomorrow. By giving himself the chance of _really_ moving on with his life, instead of going through the motions like he had done until that day.

Besides, what was he supposed to ask her, exactly?

_ Was it planned? _

_ When did you know? _

_ When were you planning of telling us?  _

_ Did you always know you were going to keep it? _

All complicated things. So, he decided that if they had to talk, he would have gone soft on her. Asked her something simple. 

“Do you know what you are having?”

She shook her head, stretching her arms over her head. “Too soon. My doctor would like me to take an amnio, though, said that between the various things, it could say the baby’s gender as well. But, still, it can’t be done before the sixteenth week. And even so, I’m not sure I want to take the risks. As small as they can be.”

He sighed internally. _So much for something simple…_

“Keith doesn’t know.” She suddenly said. “And I’m not sure I want him to know. I… we were being careful, for real. And, there’s less than 4% of possibility of pregnancy when you take precautions. Which we did. And even then, it’s in _young_ women, not in forty years old spinsters.” She groaned, hit the back of her head against the headrest at closed yes. “Again, why am I telling you this?” 

She paused. “I don’t want him to think that I want to trap him, or whatever. He has his life, he and his ex-wife never wanted children to begin with, and that’s cool. I think… I may want this little one to be only mine. I don’t want to mess with Keith’s life. Don’t want to force him back to me just to resent us in the long run.”

“You are sweet.” He breathed, stealing a glance at her, his heart on his sleeve. “You know that, right?”

“Have you ever considered it?” She suddenly asked, her eyes lost somewhere far away from there- if in space or time, he couldn’t guess; she wasn’t sure _why_ she was asking at all: did she want to know? Or did she want to avoid listening to him, telling her all those things he wasn’t supposed to say to begin with? Christopher was her friend, her co-worker. He wasn’t her boyfriend- and mostly, he wasn’t the father of her child. He wasn’t supposed to act that way. As much as she wanted him to. 

“Kids, I mean.” She clarified, clearing her throat.

“I got to say, I’m into having a whole basketball team full of little LaSalles, but procreating in my family is like playing the gene pool lottery. Got a few branches off the family tree with issues, so…” He made a movement with his shoulders, like to say it was a no-no.

She smiled tenderly, tapping her index on the back of his hand as he was shifting gears. “Still, a LaSalle family basketball team? That’d be pretty cool.” He chuckled, and blushed – _blushed!_ – a little. “I’m serious Chris. You’d be a terrific dad.” 

“You?” He suddenly asked. It was an odd question to make to a pregnant woman, and yet, he was curios- he _wanted_ to know.

“Noah and I, we were trying back when he died. But, it didn’t happen- which sometimes I think was good, because, frankly, I don’t think I would have made a great single parent back then. And after that, I don’t think I ever met someone who made me think, _here it is, the future farther of my future children!_ I guessed I never imagined myself as a single parent- not with the kind of life we do- and yet…”

“And yet, here you are, with a little bundle of potential things to go bad on the way.”

They looked at each other. She snickered in a un-lady-like manner, trying to break the tension- a silence too intimate for her own liking. She had said too much already- she didn’t want to add anything more. 

And mostly, she didn’t want for Chris to tell her things- _personal_ things- things that would get her to like him more than what she already did. Which was already way too much, considering that she was ten weeks pregnant with another man’s child.

She thought about saying something funny, like, _you should stop ending my sentences, or people will keep believing we are sleeping together,_ or, _Ooohhh, that’s proof that Christopher LaSalle does have an heart,_ but she didn’t. 

Instead, it was Christopher who talked- taking her hand in his own on the gearshift and entwining their fingers, rubbing gently the back of her hand with his strong, big, callous fingers.

”Everything is gonna be all right. I promise.” His voice was warm, and his strong Alabama accent, it did things to her. The way he talked, it sounded like he believed each and every one of his words.

She knew he couldn’t promise her that, and yet… she too believed his words. For the mere he fact _he_ had spoken them in the first place. 

She liked him even more than she already did because of that.

She was in troubles- troubles called Christopher LaSalle. __


	7. Chapter 7

Christopher and Georgie had barely left his car and were on their way into the NCIS NOLA office, when Georgie’s phone beeped; she checked the text, gave a quick look at her wristwatch and groaned, rolling her eyes.

Christopher, who had walked in front of her, stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face her. “Something wrong?” He asked, concerned- a concern that even his blue eyes alone would have been able to transmit. 

Georgie bit her lips- something _he_ hated because he really, _really_ wanted to kiss her senseless whenever she did so – and quickly scanned the surrounding area, making sure that no one from the office would hear them.

“My doctor,” she sighed. “She moved my check-up. I’m supposed to be there in, like, half an hour?”

Chris gasped, firmly fisting his left hand at his side, his right one involuntarily, instinctually skimming over her flat belly. Georgie gasped as well at the contact, mesmerized by the sight of Chris’ fingers on her body- her _child_ \- and when she went to push his hand away, she found out she couldn’t bring herself to; instead, they intertwined their fingers, warmth and an electrical surge running through their whole beings at the contact.

“Baby’s fine?”

“Uh…” She cleared her head, her throat as well, forced herself to let it go of him.She stopped looking at their hands on her pregnant belly, but couldn’t part with Chris, so, instead, she searched for his eyes. “Yeah, it’s just that, I just entered the second trimester, yesterday actually, and I want to know that everything is all right. If it is… the worst should have passed, as they say.” 

She smiled, her eyes teasing. _If everything is well, I’m going to tell people,_ she thought, but didn’t say, and yet, Chris smiled, all pearly white teeth, and understood it all. 

“Can you cover for me?” “You want me to drive you there?” They said at the same time. They both laughed at it, Georgie biting her lips and blushing a little.

She cleared her throat. “It’s here in the Quarter, ten, fifteen minutes by feet tops. Besides, I’d rather prefer to tune the gossip down. Especially given that I mayneed to ask Pride for desk duty and maternity leave in the foreseeable future.”

Chris shook his head, laughing, hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

“What?”

He didn’t answer, just shrugged like it was nothing.

_ Sweetheart, if you think that people will not assume that  _ your _baby is actually_ my _baby, you are mistaken. You may have dated Keith, but people already know that I’ve got my eyes on you. And those outings that you didn’t want to admit were dates? Sorry, but not sorry: those were_ definitely _dates._

Georgie cleared her throat, and, as she went and give him her shoulders and started walking in direction of the Clinic, she started to nervously play with the hem of her sweater; she didn’t know what she wanted. She knew that she couldn’t ask Chris to accompany her- he wasn’t the father, she couldn’t put that weight on his shoulders, it wasn’t right to allow people to make assumptions- and yet, part of her regretted that decision.

She was forty years old. She was a single mother. And she was on her way to discover if something was wrong with her pregnancy- _with her baby_. 

It was wrong of her to even just think of burdening Chris with such a weight, and yet, in the deep of her heart, she felt it would have been the _right_ thing to do: Chris _wanted_ to get involved. He had asked her if she wanted to be driven there. Told her that everything would have been fine. He pampered her. Asked about the baby whenever they were alone.

And… she admitted with glassy eyes, hugging her belly to hope in strength from her unborn baby, she wanted it to;Chris, the guy who had asked her out on a date after their first case together in New Orleans, wasn’t the problem. _She_ was. 

Because Georgina Newman was sick and tired of being left alone in the dark. 

Men left her. They disappointed her.

She couldn’t count on anyone else but herself when it came to her heart; that, life had taught her- and she would have probably ended up doing the same thing with her child. 

She would have been there for her child… but could she say the same thing of a man who wasn’t even the baby’s father?

Maybe yes, maybe not. 

She wasn’t sure. Didn’t know. What she knew was that she rather preferred fear and solitude to yet another broken heart. 

And yet, as she walked into the clinic, she knew she would have welcomed Chris’ presence; she saw the expectant mothers, almost all of them with their husbands and boyfriends- or at least, some family. 

She wanted to regret her choice. Wanted to regret everything that had happened until that very day, but she couldn’t bring herself to. 

She wasn’t going to regret the best thing that had ever happened to her, her one and only chance at motherhood and a family of her own. _That_ was what she was supposed to concentrate on. Chris would have eventually moved on, found a nice southern girl he fancied, someone of his own age, and he would have been on his merry way. It was probably just a phase. Maybe it was just his southern gentlemanly manners. Or maybe it was because he wanted children but didn’t want to father any of them, as he had told her few weeks before.

Besides, she wasn’t going to stay in New Orleans for the rest of her life. It had always been just an affair of few months- even if now she guessed prolonging it at least until the end of the pregnancy would have been wise; at six months pregnant, she wouldn’t have been able to take a flight, nor to drive for almost twenty hours. And besides, she really didn’t feel like changing doctor at the last minute. 

_ Yes, I’m staying. For now. _ She thought between herself.

“Mrs. Newman?” She was awoken from her reverie from her doctor’s voice, and she realized she had been sitting in the waiting room until that very moment, and that almost all the other patients were now gone. She swallowed nervously, sighing, and, slowly, trembling, she made her way into the exam room. 

She wanted to cry. Wanted to have a hand to hold. Instead, she was alone. And she didn’t know what the doctor was going to tell her. 

She laid down on the table, lifted her striped white shirt. Cold sweat covered her pale skin- a skin way too pale for someone who had lived for the last fifteen years in Los Angeles. 

Keith had lifted an eyebrow the first time they had slept together, and Georgie found herself wondering if Chris would have cared at all: she gasped, her heartbeat as crazy as an horse, and wondered if it may be all right, at least dreaming about it- _wanting_ him like that.

“Bloodwork looks good. Now I want to take a quick ultrasound of the baby…”

Georgie didn’t nod (was she even supposed to, after all? Wasn’t that, like, what they always did?) and looked at the white ceiling as the doctor splashed her abdomen with the chilly gel; the woman passed the machine on her skin, Georgie feeling colder and colder, shivering all over.

Time passed. Like an eternity pushing down on her. Why wasn’t the doctor talking? Maybe there was something wrong. Maybe her baby wasn’t even there any longer- she had heard of women that had experienced such losses.

She was scared and alone. She wanted to cry. She didn’t want to be alone. 

She wanted to have Chris at her side, holding her hand, caressing the crown of her brown, rebellious hair whispering sweet nothings in her ear, telling her that everything would be all right while the doctor told them everything _was_ fine and well. 

But the doctor wasn’t talking. Which meant that there was something wrong. 

Which meant Christopher had broken a promise he should have never made to begin with.

_ Am I even surprised?  _ She realized she was thinking. Hot tears were running down her cheeks, her fists were firmly closed at her sides, her knuckles stark white.

She could see one color and one color alone: red. Rage. Irrational, and yet it was exactly how she felt. 

Christopher was _exactly_ like any other man in her life. Any other _person_ in her life. They mislead and lie and hurt her.

She was all alone. She had nothing- just when she had hoped that things would change for the best…

“…And that’s your baby, detective! It was playing hide-and-seek and wanted to scare us, but, we won!” 

Georgie gasped, and looked at the screen; it was hard to see a baby in those grey and black and white stains, and yet here it was. Her child. 

It was there. Still with her.

“Everything seems to be fine. The rockiest period is officially over- if you haven’t told people already you can start now.” The blonde woman smiled, cleaned the detective a little, then sighed. “Do you want to schedule the amniocentesis for next month?”

Georgie’s eyes couldn’t leave the screen. She was focused on that tiny little miracle- _her_ miracle; at twenty-four years old, at the peak of her fertility, a woman has a 4% chance of getting pregnant while using precautions. She had gone and done it at forty years old.

Risks were low nowadays, but they still existed, and she already loved this baby. She would have never gotten rid of it, never put it into danger- no matter what.

She took a big breath. “No. I just want to schedule the next ultrasound.”

For once, she wanted to believe that there was a man out there who wouldn’t have played with her heart, wouldn’t have lied to her. 

She wanted for Chris to be right, and for everything to end well. 

* * *

“So, Christopher… something’s wrong with Georgie?” Pride asked as he took a chair and sat before Christopher at the young agent’s desk; still looking through some files from the investigation, Chris shook his head. But he was smiling- that was why Pride knew his surrogate son was hiding something, and that whatever it could be, there was going to be no harm involved.

_ Hell,  _ he thought to himself, chuckling inside, _could be even something good for the kid. God knows if he doesn’t deserve it. About time he changes his ways…_

Christopher took a big breath; Pride was looking at him in that “ _I know you are keeping a secret, and secrets are no good_ ” kind of way; he was probably going to repeat his mantra next, reminding him that they couldn’t help, nor save, each other if there were any secrets between themselves.

“It’s not my place to say, King, but rest assured, it’s nothing you have to be worried about.” _I think_ , he mentally added. “Besides, you know. She’ll tell you when she’ll be ready.”

Pride chuckled. “I don’t know, Christopher. Georgie can be quite hard-headed. You, of all, should know it.” Without adding another word, Pride went back into the kitchen, and left Chris there to ponder what the hell had just happened. What did Pride mean? Did he know something? Had he _understood_ something? 

“Ehy.” Chris was still lost, pondering his boss and friend’s words, when Georgie returned from her “trip”, slightly out of breath. “Pride’s here?”

“Uh?” It took Chris a few seconds to catch up; he had barely noticed she had returned, and when he finally did, his mind was suddenly filled with all the things he wanted to ask her; he bit the inside of his cheek, cursing himself. He knew it wasn’t his place, and yet he wouldn’t have minded being there with her- _for_ her.

_ Do you know already the sex? Did you decide if you want an amnio? Is everything all right? What did the doctor say? Were you worried for something in particular? _

Instead, he went for a simple” You good?” 

Biting her lips, she nodded, and he couldn’t help but grin- and had they been alone, he would have probably taken her in his arms, and made her twist in the air like a ballerina, because… because her eyes were answering to all of his questions and to so much more!

She was shining. Radiant, As happy as he had never seen her before.

_ It’s true what they say about pregnant women, then,  _ he thought, chuckled. He wondered how could it be possible that no one was seeing it. Was he seeing the signals just because he knew what he was looking for? Or maybe it was because he was, in some kind of weird, twisted way, involved…

“Good.” He simply said, his hand on her own, his eyes filled with happiness, the mirror of her own.

“Lunch date with the boyfriend?” Brody asked her arriving from the garden. “Please, don’t tell me you disappear in the middle of the case for a man. We have enough of LaSalle chasing skirts…”

Geordie made a face. “Nah. I’m too much of a workaholic to even just think of getting away from the job to have a dirty, secret rendezvous in the middle of the day. Besides.” She took a big breath, trying to at least seem sorry. “Besides I happen to be single again. Have been for the last couple of months, actually.”

“Really!” Brody smirked, her gaze- her very intent, and meaningful glaze- focused on Chris, who looked at her like he could kill her on the spot. 

Brody wasn’t an idiot. She knew he liked Georgie. Knew he had set his eyes on her and then Keith had happened.

And apparently, now Brody wanted to play Cupid and have him put his shit together and just ask _clearly_ Georgie out on a date. Or even better, _a series of dates_. If not directly her hand in marriage.

“So… Pride?” Georgie asked again, looking quizzically from Chris to Brody. 

“Kitchen.” Chris left his place at his desk, and, under Brody’s quizzical look, walked a few steps at Georgie’s side. “You need some help? Some… encouragement?”

At the doorstep of the kitchen, she stopped and turned to face Chris; she was smiling- shyly, but he could see that it was a real smile this time around – and put her hands on his shoulders; they were close, so close, that they chests were almost touching, and involuntarily, she started rubbing circles on the hot skin of his neck.

“Relax, I don’t need you to be the perfect southern gentleman this time around, Chris.”Her breath was hot on his neck, and Chris lowered his head, their foreheads merely inches apart.

“You sure?” He asked, his voice low and hoarse and sensual, the words spilled like honey, like he was breathing them on her own lips.

She nodded. 

But she wasn’t so sure any longer. 

She didn’t want to go to Pride. She just wanted the whole world to disappear so that she and Chris could be there, _alone_ , until the end of times, in that precise moment. Their bubble of satisfaction and desire and just pure, raw _need_.

He was titling his head to the side, and she half-closed her eyes, foretasting his kiss, when Brody cleared her throat, remembering the both of them that they weren’t alone in their perfect bubble of perfect happiness, but they were _at work_.

They jumped apart, took each a couple of steps back, like they were burning. 

“Ok, Now, Pride, you guys, later.” She cleared her voice, and went into the kitchen, where she found Pride busy cookingshrimps crepes with some deliciously-looking sauce.

Something she hadn’t particularly enjoyed until that day -but apparently, she was already starting to have cravings. 

“Ehy Pride… you’ve got a minute?” She knocked nervously on the table, biting her lips. Her heart was practically thundering in her chest. And why? She wondered. She didn’t know what she was so afraid of. People’s judgement, maybe? That’s what had guided her until that very moment, after all. 

“Sure.” He nodded, and offered her a crepe and took another for himself. “You got something for me?”

She started to eat and play with her food at the same time, once sat before Pride. She kept biting her lips. She kept stealing glances at her boss. Did her best to buy herself time.

“Wow. I’ve tasted good food before, but this is absolutely _a-maz-ing._ Why do you just have a bar? Or even better: why are you still a cop and not a chef?”

“I’ve been told Chris’ cooking isn’t half bad.” She almost chocked on her food as he chuckled; she kept looking, terrified, at Pride: what the hell was happening?

“I still think I’m better, though; let’s call it natural predisposition. Passion, if you want. You see, when Christopher cooks for a lady, he follows recipes. Me? I follow my own heart.”

_ Maybe I do need someone to help me man up, after all,  _ she wondered, as she carefully choose her next words. Or maybe not: Pride didn’t need to see Chris at her side, nor to know that he was delivering meals at her place because he believed she wasn’t looking after herself enough; she was about to tell him she was expecting a baby- and had Chris been there, Pride would have made the logical (and yet wrong) assumption.

She took a big breath.It was time to stop biting around the bush.

“So… I think I may need you to put me on desk duty.” She cleared her voice. “Actually, I _need_ to be put on desk duty.”

Pride sighed, shook his head. “Georgie, I’m not an idiot. You’ve been distant, distracted lately. Christopher doesn’t want to tell me what’s going on- and now you tell me that you don’t want to work in the field any longer. And don’t tell me it’s because last month you took a bullet to the vest- because you’ve been a cop for almost half your life, and you’ve been knocking at Heaven’s doorstep without battling an eyelash before.”

Georgie put aside the food and started to play with the hem of her sweater- a feminine way of showing troubles. Secrets kept hidden but that wanting to be left free.

“Georgie, if you don’t tell me what’s the problem, I can’t…”

“… you can’t help me, and the more you know, the more you can help and keep me safe. I know.” She finished his sentence for him, then, she said, finally, in one breath. “I’m three months pregnant.”

She lifted her face from the table when she didn’t hear Pride replying; he was looking at her, with a content smile. “Well?” She demanded. 

Pride laughed, and shook his head; he stood and went to her side of the table, and embraced her, patting her on the back. “Ehy, it doesn’t matter what I think or that I’m sorry I will not have you in the field for a while- the only thing that matters is what _you_ think.”

She smiled. “I think that the timing isn’t perfect, that we weren’t planning on it, actually, we did our best to prevent this to begin with, because, hello? We barely know each other and it’s not like it was serious… we were just two adults that happened to be single and wanted to have some fun… but it happened… and I know you’ll probably think that I’m crazy, but I’m actually… happy about this.” 

She smiled- actually giggled. “I’m going to be a mum!”

“Yes, and trust me, you’ll be an amazing one.” He chuckled, patted her on the back. “So… are we celebrating or…?”

She smiled, shook her head a little. “Yeah, yeah, we can celebrate.” She knew what he really meant: he wanted to know if she was going to keep it a secret or not. Which she didn’t- not any longer, at least. She was happy- and she wanted for people to know _why_.

With Pride hot on her heels, she went back into the squad-room, and cleared her voice. She was almost stuttering. But it needed to be done. Chris was right. Sooner or later they would have discovered it- and the more she waited, the more her coworkers would have felt betrayed. Because, like Pride always said? They were like a small family of sort. 

She didn’t know how to say it- so she decided to be direct. 

“Guys… the things is… I’m pregnant!” There. She had done it. Now she could go and hide in the shadows just like she wanted to.

“With a baby?!” Patton asked.

She turned to look at him, lifted eyebrows and all. “No, of course. With a two-headed elephant.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m pregnant with a _baby_. Of course I am!”

Brody shook her head, and, radiant, hugged Georgie and congratulated her; Meredith wasn’t sappy, more matter-of-fact, and that was what Georgie liked about her. 

“Congratulations, mama!” Chris did the same routine as Brody, but hugged her longer, tighter, and whispered in her ear _I told you I would have acted surprised!_

“We are happy, thought, aren’t we?” Brody asked just to make sure, suddenly scared that she had over-reacted, as controlled as her reaction had been.

“Yeah, we are.” Georgie answered, her hand on her belly.

Without her noticing, Pride stole a glance at Christopher; he had an idea that Detective Trevor was the father of the baby, and yet, he could recognize all too well the look in his second in command’s eyes.

It was the same look he had had once upon a time, the same one he still had whenever he saw Laurel or talked about her.

In Christopher’s eyes, he could see that the boy already was a _dad_. __


	8. Chapter 8

“She knows that she can’t will a phone to ring, right?”

Chris and Percy rolled their eyes at Brody’s statement; strangely enough, it wasthe former ATF agent who took immediately the Los Angeles detective’s side, cutting Chris off even before he could open his mouth as to speak.

“Let her be. She has to call home and give them the news.”

“You know that I’m actually right here and I can hear you, right?” Sitting at her desk, Georgie groaned, and turned to look at her co-workers; soon enough the trio joined her, Chris standing at her side, Percy jumping on her desk, and Meredith taking a chair and sitting there -all in all, they were looming over her like ghosts or some bird of prey. 

“You have told _us_ before _them_?!” Meredith sounded surprised. “You know that sooner or later you’ll have to tell your family, right? I mean, you are _four months_ along already!”

Georgie rolled her eyes. “Ok, first, you are the ones who are supposed to watch my back, were I to go in the field again for whatever reason. Second, I am not taking family advice from someone who moved over 900 miles and forgot to mention it to her parents.”

“Ok, someone is already moody. You know what? I’m not getting involved in this.” Brody left them, went into the kitchen, but from her eyes they all they all knew that, despite the pout, she wasn’t _too_ mad. Georgie could actually understand why Brody was a bit annoyed with her: after all, she still had what the other woman had lost, her sister, and Meredith probably felt like Georgie was dismissing her completely. 

“You all right?” Percy asked her the moment Chris fled the scene, trying to talk some sense into Brody, or maybe just see whether she was really mad or not. “I know a couple of things about strained family relationships. So, whatever you need, I’m here.”

Georgie sighed. She thought she needed, maybe, someone to talk to. Not Loretta or Pride- too paternal, too wise- not Chris, who was always going soft on her. Definitely not Sebastian or Patton, with whom she wasn’t as close as with the rest of the team. And not Meredith, who couldn’t get why she was having issues with her sister, when she was supposed to be amazed by the mere fact of having her to begin with.

Well, she liked Sonja; she was a “no-bullshit” kind of person and they’ve immediately clicked, thanks, also, to a mutual former acquaintance of them. And Sonja seemed to be, for some unknown reason, fond of Georgie as well. Yep- Sonja not only would have done, but would have probably been the best choice.

“It’s not like I don’t want to tell them, it’s my sister I’m having troubles with.I’m not sure how I’m supposed to reach out to someone who dragged me to court.” Georgie paused. “Even if she took the right choice. But…”

Sonja put an hand on her shoulder. “But there was a right way and a wrong way to do it and she took the wrong way.”

She nodded. “Yeah. And I _want_ to tell them. All I dream at night is being able to put my head in Chloe’s lap and have her telling me to just be calm because everything will be all right.” She paused when she saw Sonja looking at her quizzically. “She is my step-mum. _Foster_ mum actually. It’s a long story”

Sonja chuckled, and looked at the smartphone on the desk. “You know what the good thing about modern technology is? You don’t actually have to talk with someone when you need to let them know something.”

“And e-mail? I’m not sure…” She turned up her nose. 

“Not really. I bet you’ve got your ultrasound in this thing, right?” Georgie nodded, picked up her phone and retrieved on her Dropbox the jpg file; then, she handled the phone to Sonja, who started to push imaginary buttons. “Your sister’s name is Ellie, right? Then Mum… Gibbs too? Yeah, let’s put Gibbs in as well… and… Send! Done. You just sent them an MMS. You can thank me later, Big City Mouse.” Sonja chuckled, and decided it was time to give Georgie some space. But when she was a few steps from the former LA detective, she turned, smiling. “You know what? I think we’ll stick with either Georgie or Newman.”

As she said so, in the next room, Chris’ phone was beeping, alerting him of the arrival of a message; when he went to check it, he smiled seeing the received picture, and when Sonja put a gentle hand on his shoulder, he knew who to thank for the unexpected and welcomed gift.

He mouthed _Thank you_ to his work-wife, and saved the ultrasound picture on his device.

* * *

Georgie was in bed when she heard noises coming from her kitchen; on autopilot, she grabbed the gun she kept in her bedside drawer, and, as stealthy as possible, she left her room, ready to face the intruder; strangely enough, many lights had been turned on, not that she really expected thieves to make any sense at all, though. 

“Federal Agent, Freeze!” She screamed, pointing her gun at the figure kneeling between the fridge and her kitchen table; a pair of hands went up, and slowly, a _male_ figure stood up and faced her. “Uhm- don’t shoot me?”

“ _Chris_.” She hissed his name as she left the gun on the counter; a look at the clock in the room, revealed her the awful truth, and suddenly she felt the desire to grab again her weapon and use it against that _idiot_. “Chris, it’s barely _six._ What the hell are you doing here?”

He looked at her like she had grown another head. “I just brought you some food. It’s not like I’ve never done it before!”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yes, but normally I’m the one who opens _you_ the door. _This_ iscalled breaking and entering. Which, last time I checked, it was a _crime_.”

Chis chuckled, making good show of his perfect pearl-white teeth, and showed her the small key ring adorned by a LAPD badge replica. “Not if I’ve got the keys!”

She inspected the badge. It was perfect- and it even featured her grade and her badge number, _Lieutenant Detective 714_. 

“Wow. That’s borderline creepy and stalkerish. Kind of sweet, but still creepy.” She sighed, sat at the table and, hands under her chin, she chuckled. “I’ll not bother asking you _why_ you have _my_ keys to begin with, and I’ll just forgive you as you did bring me food. Anyway, what’s for breakfast?”

Chris laughed as he offered her a veggie omelet, still warm, and a glass with what looked like a greenish smoothie. “You, Georgina Newman, are a weird, weird woman.”

She took a bite, shook her head, still giggling. “Nope. I’m hormonal. Big difference. Which also means that I can get away with it.”

Chris sighed, like he was exasperated, but from his eyes, she could clearly see he was simply humoring her.

“I put in the freezer some breakfast tacos and egg muffins for the next few days. I also got you some Quinoa Salad, Turkey and veggie burgers, broccoli, roasted shrimps… ” Straw in mouth, she looked at him with a lifted eyebrow without saying a word. “Now what?”

“You are pampering me…” She sing-sang, laughing like she was a kid. “That’s actually the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. And besides…” She stopped mid-sentence, gasping; her hand went to her belly, the meal completely forgotten. Without waiting for her to say anything, Chris went at her side, one hand on her arm, like to try to reassure her.

“Georgina?” He asked, clearly worried. 

She shook her head, concentrated. “I just… have this… gentle fluttery feeling in my stomach, like, butterflies, only, not really…” She paused, looked at him a bit in panic. “Do you think I should call Loretta? Or maybe my doctor. You know what? I should _definitely_ call my doctor.”

She was almost crying, scared; she didn’t want anything to happen to her baby- she wanted to have everything she had been promised, everything she had always hoped for. And now, this was happening? Was it because she had dared to be _too happy_?

Chris was looking at her, concentrated; then, without asking for her consent, he moved his right hand under the fabric of her silky pajama top, and, cupping her belly, felt the taunt, warm skin of her abdomen; she gasped at the contact, like electricity was running through her veins. 

“Is it where you felt it? The butterfly feeling?” She nodded, and kept his hand on her body, and when she felt it again, there, in the point where he was touching her body, she gasped, and he smiled. In a way she had never seen him smile before -Chris was so happy in that moment, that his eyes were glassy with unshed tears. 

“I don’t think you have to call your doctor, honey.” The nickname rolled out on his tongue on its own accord, and it sounded so right, so perfect, that neither of them even noticed, nor cared. “You are twenty weeks along….” 

“What?” She asked, and Chris lifted the fabric of her grey shirt, uncovering her pregnant belly; there, where Chris was keeping his hand, where she felt the weird feeling, the skin was… different? She didn’t know how to explain it. 

“It’s your baby, honey.” He said, kneeling on the floor so that his eyes could be level with his hand on her belly. “Your baby just moved for the first time.”

She smiled, and put her hand on his own; their fingers interlaced, they stood there until the baby didn’t stop moving around in its mother’s belly. 

* * *

“I don’t know what’s more impressive: that my baby is having a baby, or that she finally learnt to cook!” Chloe chuckled as she opened her (former) foster daughter’s fridge, and was engulfed by sudden pride as she saw it filled to the brim with _actual food_ ; sitting on her couch, Georgie was reading a pregnancy book, and almost chocked on her drink. 

She tsk-tsked the woman she had come to consider a mother. “You kidding? Mum, I haven’t done anything but reheating since I was three months along!” She joined her mother, and looked at the items in the fridge and indicated them. “Healthy food from Chris and Doc Wade, vegan goodies from Sonja, fish ingredients from Pride, junk food from Sebastian and Patton, and Ice-cream from Brody.” She looked at her mother, teasingly. “Don’t worry. That, I don’t reheat.”

Chloe shook her head, sighing a bit disappointed. She had come to see her “daughter”- because little Christina Georgina had always been that to her; when her husband- the major, as she had kept calling him until the day he had passed- had asked her if she would agree in taking in the two still minor orphan sisters of a young protégé of his, she hadn’t been thrilled; married to an older man who had made of the military his life, she had barely been twenty-seven years old, which meant that suddenly she had been asked of becoming the mother figure of two girls that were already teenagers.

Ellison, back then fifteen years old, had been easy- she was perfect in each and every way- but her little sister, who was barely twelve, was always angry and missed her previous life; it was seeing her that Chloe had decided that she _had_ to take them in: she wanted that little girl to need her, and to be there for her when the time would be thought; it had taken her a good five years, but then her “baby” had come around, and Chloe couldn’t have been more proud of her: that was why it broke her heart seeing her girls fighting over custody of their late brother’s children.

“Sweetie… can I ask you something?” Her daughter nodded, and came back to the couch, her feet lifted on the small coffee table. “Who is Chris?”

Georgie looked at her mother like she had just grown another head; she had _met_ Chris that morning, when she had barged in New Orleans for an impromptu visit. “It’s just one of my co-workers. We worked a few cases together back in my FBI days. Why?”

“And that’s it? There’s nothing more between you two? Because I hate to break it to you,” She chuckled, her eyes filled with mirth and tease. “But the way he looks at you, that’s pretty much the way the major did when we met.”

“The only thing is, I’m, not sure he looks adoringly to me or the baby.” Georgie took a big breath, and started to play with the hem of her shirt, covering her six months pregnant belly. “Chris is father material. Only thing is, does he want to be husband material too? I know he would be perfect, but…” 

She sat at her daughter’s side, and put Georgie’s head on her shoulder, just like when she wasn’t even a teenager yet. “Oh, honey….”

“I don’t want him if he is in only for her.”

“So, I’m having a grand-daughter?” Chloe asked, already enamored with the bundle of joy and troubles that was going to fill her baby’s existence.

“That’s what I’m telling myself, mum.”

* * *

“So, I’ve been snooping around Derek’s finances and I’m not completely comfortable with what I found. It’s like a labyrinth of shell-companies after shell-companies, and in my experience, it usually means that something shady is going on. So, I was thinking…” Georgie stopped to talk and finally lifted her eyes, and met the ones of the _only_ other person present in the “kitchenette” of the NCIS building; she didn’t know the older woman, but somehow, she looked somehow familiar. 

“Georgina Newman, right?” The woman, all bright smiles and one of the strongest Alabama accents she had ever heard, offered Georgie her hand, and the cop shook it. 

“Mrs. LaSalle?” She asked. Of course there was the accent, but those eyes were unmistakable- they were the same as Chris and Cade. Besides, hadn’t she seen a picture of her on Chris’ desk, once? 

Georgie cleared her voice. “Does your son really talk of me?” 

Mrs. LaSalle nodded. “All the time. He is quite fond of you _and_ your baby. You still far?”

She blushed, lowered her eyes for a reason she wasn’t sure of. “I’m seven months along.”

The woman looked at her in a way that she had seen too many times; it was like they were sharing, in silence, anecdotes, like they were part of some sort sisterhood and them and only them could understand their own code. 

“From what I hear, Chris is around you all the time. A bit stalkerish, but it’s his own way of showing that he cares. He still does that with Cade, too.” She paused, looked at Georgie teasing her. “Not that my son thinks of you as a sister…”

She froze. What was with mothers and needing to know what there was between her and Chris and if she felt something deeper for him? Because she guessed that was what Mrs. LaSalle was hinting at.

She shrugged. “I’m lucky to have him in my life. He is a good friend. My best friend, I think.”

Mrs. LaSalle came closer to her, and put her hands on Georgie’s shoulders; she looked at the younger woman affectionately, and shook her head. “No. He is lucky to have met you. There were things my son wouldn’t believe in any longer, but _you_ , you were able to teach them to him once again.” 

She gave Georgie a kiss on the cheek, and then caressed the taunt skin of her belly. “Good luck to all of you. It’s getting late- tell Chris I came back to my hotel, will you?” 

Once in her room, Patricia LaSalle started playing with the small celeste velvet box she had brought for her second born- Chris hadn’t said anything, nor had she told him she would have gotten out of the safe box their grandmother’s engagement ring; but, after listening to her son talking non-stop about this new partner of his, she had asked Cade and her baby girl if either of them minded if Chris would be the one getting the family heirloom, and they had agreed, both she and Cade thinking the same thing: that sooner or later, “her” engagement ring would have made good show of itself on Georgina Newman’s left hand.

* * *

“Chris? Can I ask you something weird?” Chris lifted his eyes from his screen and looked quizzically at Georgie, who was sitting at his desk, right before him. “Would you drive me to my doctor? I came here by car but I’m not sure I can drive right now…”

Georgie offered him the keys to her bright red Renegade, and as he grabbed them, he saw that her hands were shaking; he also noticed for the first time how pale and _cold_ she was, like she was in shock.

“Georgie?” He was looking at her terrified; he gulped down a mouthful of saliva and went to her side of the desk, and she practically collapsed in his arm as he kneeled next to her.

“I haven’t felt the baby move today.” She said between sobs. “I’ve called my doctor and she is waiting for me, but I can’t go alone. I think I may be in shock.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know, that’s… what I thought. All right, I’m coming with you, ok? I’m not leaving you alone.” She nodded, and he would have taken her in his arms, but she was out of the door before he could even just think about it. 

He helped her inside the car, and as they were driving the five minutes to the clinic, they didn’t talk; she kept sobbing, her hand on her belly, Chris’ one on her own, holding her like for dear life. 

_ What an ironic saying, _ he thought, _since it’s her baby’s life on the line here_.

Few minutes later, he was leaving her outside the clinic, and was looking for a parking space; he slowly made his way to the same ward he had seen her visiting so many months before- almost a lifetime; he didn’t want to get there too quickly just to hear bad news, so, when he got outside the door, eyes low on the ground and hands in the pockets of his jeans, he was surprised to see the same doctor he had already “met” that time there, seemingly waiting for him. 

“Mr. LaSalle? Chris?” She asked, worried, panting, like she was in a hurry, and he nodded, dumbstruck. “Miss Newman doesn’t want to start the exam until you are there. She says she doesn’t want to be alone.”

He didn’t waited for the doctor to tell him to follow her, he practically run inside the exam room and went to her side; Georgie was leaning on the bed, her eight months pregnant belly naked, covered with light blue gel, and as soon as she saw him, she reached for his hand; Chris lowered his head, now at level with her own, and kissed her forehead as he run his free hand through her dark locks, the doctor already busy with the ultrasound.

_ Everything is going to be all right. Don’t worry. I’m here. I’m not leaving. Whatever happens, I’ll be at your side. It’s going to be ok. We’ll be fine.  _ He kept repeating sweet nothings in her ear, hoping that he could believe his own words as well, and then, they heard it, strongly- despite being mollified by liquid- a bit like talking in the water. Only, they weren’t hearing words. 

It was… an heartbeat? Could it really be possible? 

“Is that…” Chris asked. Georgie still didn’t dare to say a word, she was still too scared; she feared she could somehow jinx it by just thinking about her baby still being there with _them_. 

The doctor nodded, smiling. “That’s your baby’s heartbeat, guys. The only reason you aren’t feeling it moving any longer it’s because you are a bit too tiny, and this pest here isn’t. It doesn’t move because it can’t move any longer. And, see?” She indicated the glossy dark image on the screen. “Nature already thought about that. You still have a month to go and it’s already getting in position. Which is just our luck, otherwise I would have had to perform a C-Section.”

Georgie took a breath of relief as she stood, helped by Chris, and cleaned herself up as better as she could with paper towels. “God, I’m so sorry. I feel like a stupid. I mean, I should have known, and instead I run here scared and…”

The doctor shook her head. “No. You did good. That’s why you’ll be a terrific mum in a month.”

“Oh, I can already see myself in a few years; I’ll be the kind of mum who spends her time covering her baby with sunscreen in the summer and with layer after layer of wool in winter.” Georgie chuckled, and yet, as they were leaving the studio, Chris reached for her hand when he saw that the color hadn’t returned to her cheeks and that her eyes weren’t shining with the same joy as the day they have felt the baby moving for the first time. 

Hand in hand, they walked to her car, Georgie going through the motions, too tired after the rush of adrenaline to fight him over driving or tell him where he was supposed to go; she didn’t even realized they were going to her place until they stopped right there, in front of her building. 

But, she didn’t leave her car; she stood there, looking outside the window at the place where Chris had talked her into moving, and she understood- she _accepted_ \- that everything she had done in the last few months was relying on him. For the first time in a long time, she had _wanted_ to do so. To allow him to get close. Because right from the start, with Chris, it had been different.

Because Chris had never lied to her before. 

_ Everything is going to be all right. Don’t worry. I’m here. I’m not leaving. Whatever happens, I’ll be at your side. It’s going to be ok. We’ll be fine. _

She remembered the sweet nothings, the promises he had made not even an hour before, and in her seat, she turned to look at him, with an intensity and an intent that took his breath away.

“Did you mean it?” Her voice was flat, like when she interrogated a suspect and meant business. “What you told me before, in the examination room.” Chris nodded, and she grinned.

“Georgina, what….” He asked, but she put a finger on his lips to shut him up. 

“Pride,” She kept on her interrogation. “Is he expecting any of us back?” This time, Chris shook his head, his lips still caressing the rough skin of her finger.

As she sighed at closed eyes in pleasure, she titled her head to the side; as she opened her eyes, Chris took her hand in his own, and kissed her knuckles, never breaking eye-contact. 

“Then, Chris, I want you to come inside with me.”

He sighed. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.” He admitted, and yet, the determination- the happiness that he was finally reaching his goal- wouldn’t leave his eyes. _If I follow you inside now, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop._

“I think it’s actually a perfect idea.”

She closed the distance between them, and their lips met- hungry, famished, thirsty for love and passion and lust- and what they started in the car, they actually finished on her couch; only later, their clothes scattered on the floor, Chris dragged her naked and spent form to bed- to actually _sleep_. 

And that was when the problems started. Because as soon as she welcomed him into her embrace between her sheets, Chris fell asleep as a rock; but suddenly, Georgie could _only_ remember a sentence he had told her a few months before, and once again she was left wondering if it was her that Chris wanted or fatherhood.

_ I got to say, I’m into having a whole basketball team full of little LaSalles, but procreating in my family is like playing the gene pool lottery. Got a few branches off the family tree with issues, so… _

At the end, she too fell asleep- but her dreams were only nightmares.


	9. Chapter 9

Chris woke to a fresh breeze and the warmth of the early rays of sunlight coming from the semi-open window of Georgie’s bedroom; and yet, even in his semi-asleep state, the first thing he became aware of was _her,_ and the nervousness she was radiating. 

Georgie was sitting with her back against the pillows, biting her lips, her eyes lost and far away. She was tense, that much Chris could say, and that, it scared him. Just the night before he had kissed her- kissed her fears and her tears away as he had remembered her of his promises; and now, just a matter of hours later, he could see all her doubts and fears resurfacing, with a strength bigger than before.

Clearing his throat, Chris sat at her side, and tried to reach for her, hoping that physical contact would at least help her remember all the things said and left unsaid from the day before; but instead, Georgie left the bed, and, rearranging the thin robe she had probably put on in the middle of the night, went to the door, like to emphasize her point.

“Georgie…” Chris breathed, shaking his head, like in disbelief. So much effort- and yet they were back to two steps behind. Or maybe one million. 

“I think you should leave, Christopher.” Chris didn’t know what felt more like a sucker-punch, if the use of his full name, or the way she still refused to meet his eyes. 

And that was when he knew, for as much as a breaker as she was, he had been able to take a few pages out of her book. Chris LaSalle had been a cop for a long time, worked with extremely talented people, but mostly, in the last few months, he had learnt to read her. He _knew_ her and her tells. 

Something was going on- something she didn’t want to share with him.

With a new resolution, Chris left the bed without bothering with clothes, and reached her, stood face to face with the woman he had come to love, his second chance at happiness after Savannah, if only she would let him in.

He didn’t say a word. He simply cradled her face between his hands, run his thumbs on her lips. Rubbed out with his tender kisses her tears.

“Chris, please…” She begged, shaking her head, trying to push him away; and yet, her petite hands seemed to grab his shoulders instead; he breathed a sigh of relief. She was fighting. She still hadn’t given up on them. He smiled, and cried, as he kissed her lips, trying to conjure his feelings in the most primal way he knew of. And that was when all hell broke loose.

She didn’t kiss him back- instead, she fisted her hands, and pushed him away, as far away from her as possible; still confused, Chris made to get back to her, but the resolution – the _desperation_ \- he saw in her dark eyes froze him on the spot. 

“I can’t do this.” She said, between sobs. He could read Georgie like a book- could see she was as broken as he was, but that she was determinate not to change her mind, not on this, at least – so he stood there, waiting. For what, he wasn’t sure- maybe a sign, or an explanation. Anything.

Just… not the nothingness she was presenting him with.

His blood boiled in his veins. For years, after Savannah’s death, he had gone on like on autopilot, his family and his work the only things that mattered, a different woman every week- sometimes every day. Then Georgina had waltzed back into his life, and, day after day, had eased her presence into his life- first as a friend, then as something more.

Intellectually, he _knew_ she didn’t need saving, didn’t need his protection- she was older, had been a cop longer than him, had been raised in the Navy, she knew how to handle herself- and yet, the moment he had shaken her hand at HQ, when he had seen her again after _years,_ when she hadn’t rolled her eyes and reprimanded him because he was calling her Georgina, but, instead, had smiled and bitten her lips, in _that_ moment, something had changed in him. 

He had known. Like he had known that hot summer in Alabama when he was only a teenager.

He wanted her. He _needed_ her in his life. He was going to grow old at Georgina Newman’s side. All he had to do was charm his way into her life, talk her into staying in New Orleans. He had thought he was going to have time, but then Keith had walked in, taken and abandoned her. He had almost lost her- to _him_ and her own fears- and he wasn’t going to allow it to happen again.

She wanted him out? Fine.

But first, he would have forced her to show her true colors- to face what was holding her back from being truly and fully happy with him.

“You want me to walk out of that door and pretend nothing happened? That’s fine with me.” He took step after step, until he was so close she could feel his breath on her skin. “But first you’ll have to look at me in the eyes and explain to me why you’ve suddenly decided you don’t want this.”

Georgie closed her eyes and took a big breath, and hugged herself- maybe to protect herself, maybe to give herself the strength to do what had to be done. 

She lifted her gaze and looked at Chris in the eyes, just like he had asked her to. And then, she spoke, her words like venom erasing the hope and happiness and _light_ that had filled his whole being the moment they had finally kissed. 

“You don’t want a wife or a girlfriend, Chris. You just want an heathy baby. Something you _can’t_ have on your own. What did you called it? Genetic lottery, right?”

Red rage filled his vision, as Chris fisted his hands at his sides, clenching his teeth; he hastily recovered his scattered clothes, and then, without saying a word, without even grabbing the St. Christopher medal he had taken off the night before, he left, slamming the door shout. He didn’t have a plan to warm his way back into her life- because, frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to any longer. 

She was wrong. Dead wrong.

She just had to. 

It wasn’t like that. Yes- he already loved her baby like it was his own. But it was about _her_. It had _always_ been about her. The baby- an healthy baby that wouldn’t inherit his family curses- was just an added bonus. 

How could she not see it? She _had_ to know it.

Unless… unless she wasn’t seeing it because she couldn’t. A certain someone once told him that even the most perceptive person could be blind when it came to their own feelings and those of the people closest to them; you get too involved, you are too close, you don’t have enough focus- and you just fly blind.

Chris chuckled to himself as he walked back to his own apartment, shaking his head, laughing like a maniac and feeling like a new man once again- a man filled with hope.

He didn’t have a plan to get Georgie back yet. He didn’t know how he would have convinced her that he would have made a good father and an even better husband. He just knew that, one way or another, one day, she would have been his. 

_ Watch me, _ he dared himself as he changed his mind and decided, instead, to walk to HQ; _watch me, Georgie. One day, I’ll marry you…_


	10. Chapter 10

She needed to talk with someone. Clear her head. Know that she hadn’t done yet another mistake- she really wanted to, but Georgie couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth, but after one week of hell, she _needed_ someone else’s opinion. 

That was why Loretta was a life-saver.

“I think, Miss Newman, that a word with Special Agent Pride may be in order… you, my dear, have no business being here _now_.” Loretta chuckled knowingly as she looked at the younger woman, tsk-tsking her like she knew a secret- which she probably did, because Loretta Wade embodied the spirit of New Orleans, and at times, seemed that the city’s magic, its traditions, were just part of her being. 

Some people called it a sixth sense. Others, a woman’s intuition. Which it really didn’t matter- because when it came down to it, Loretta simply knew what to say and _when_ to say it.

“How far are you? Thirty-six weeks?” Georgie nodded, tried to smile- and was well-aware that her smile wasn’t reaching her eyes. “You should be home resting.”

She shrugged, hands in the pockets of her maternity jeans, the posture empathizing her not-so-big- pregnant belly under the cloudy fabric of her yellow camisole. “That’s ok, I’m just running some errands to pass the time. Besides, I’ve already read all the books that I’ve got at my place, like, twice, so…”

Loretta shook her head, sighing, and briefly turned to look at Sebastian, busy looking at a screen at her back, the same thing he had done for the last fifteen minutes or so. 

“Sebastian! You think you’ll be done soon with the analysis of the compound?”

“Not really. I think it may be another half an hour, an hour maybe. The components were extremely degraded, and the system has to rebuild them working on all the possible hypothesis. Which, by the way, are quite fascinating. Because I’ve never seen anything like that. And by seen, I mean heard of. Which brings into question if….”

“Sebastian!” Loretta called him back, firmly, and yet with sweetness and mirth in her voice and her eyes. “As you are currently stuck, why don’t you take a few minutes off and go grab Miss Newman a chocolate bar somewhere?”

Georgie wanted to laugh- it was so Loretta finding an excuse to have a face-to-face – but she decided to go along with her, as she felt she would be soon hearing the words of advice she so desperately needed in that moment. 

She pretend to sniff. “Yes, please Sebastian. My baby and I _crave_ some dark chocolate. Oh! With hazelnuts!”

“Well, all right?” Sebastian followed the women’s orders, but still looked at them quizzically- he could be naïve, but he had the distinct feeling the ladies just wanted some alone time. He normally would have tried to eavesdrop, but he had already been at the receiving end of a pregnant woman, and he knew they could be vindictive.

(Plus, he was scared of Newman. She was, he was told, a good shot.)

“Sweetheart, you look like you didn’t sleep a wink- and I fear it may not have to do with anything fun.” Georgie bit her lips, and quickly checked the door, just to make sure Sebastian wasn’t back yet. “Relax. Dark Chocolate with hazelnuts is hard to come by in our vending machines…”

Grimacing a little, Georgie took a seat in the corner, her lips in a tight line; immediately, Loretta was right before her, arms crossed over her bright blue jacket, her gaze demanding. 

It was now or never- and there was no turning back, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to break the ice.

Loretta smiled sweetly at her, and took hold of Georgie’s right shoulder, rubbing it kindly and yet with strength; she looked down at her, no judgment in her eyes. Just understanding there- from a fellow woman. A fellow mother.

“Georgie, all this stress isn’t good for you or the baby. You can’t keep it all bottled up…”

Georgie grimaced again, and rubbed kindly her belly,feeling her baby moving; she closed her eyes, and then, when she opened them, she looked at Loretta, regretting almost each and every decision she had taken since moving to New Orleans.

“I did something… awful.” She sighed. “I slept with Christopher.”

Loretta chuckled, obviously finding it funny. “And _that_ would be awful? If that’s your problem then it’s wonderful news! You two finally found your way to each other! That boy has always been crazy for you!”

Georgie bit her crimson lips. “Yeah, well… not so wonderful if I pushed him away afterwards.”

Loretta sighed, sounding like a disappointed, and exasperated, parent. “Georgie…”

“I know! It’s just that, he fell asleep, and instead I stayed awake the whole night, and my mind went into places, and once I start thinking about bad thoughts there’s just no turning back, so I just… literally pushed him out of the door and it’s been over a week and he is being… all nice and casual with me like nothing happened at all!”

Loretta didn’t say a word. She just kept looking at Georgie with her glare. She needed more. Wanted for the woman to just admit her issues. Understand them. Then, and only then, she would have given her advice.

“All the men in my life have disappointed me. They’ve given me hope, and dreams, and then… then my father and my husband died, and Don cheated on me, and even Keith, he couldn’t break up with me over dinner, nope, he went and slept with me and _then_ he remembered that he wanted to get back with his ex! Why should I believe that Christopher will be any different, uh? What if… what if he gets bored of playing family and gets to resent us? He is a commitment kind of man! He would probably prefer a lifetime of misery to divorce. Which would make _me_ feel miserable and resentful, therefore ruining my child’s life!”

Loretta chuckled again. “Georgina Newman, that man loves you _and_ your baby. Probably wondered how to get you to stay and be his the moment he shook your hand months ago, if I know him- which I do.”

Georgie pouted. “Awful things were said. By me. _Very_ awful things.” She paused. “I may or may not have said that I believed the only reason he wanted me was because… he would be a father without actually fathering the baby.”

“Georgie….” Loretta sighed, her eyes closed, massaging her forehead.

“It’s not my fault! He was the one who told me about the whole genetic lottery thing! I told you that bad thoughts it’s my mind’s setting! I was a major crimes investigator! It’s in my nature to always see the worst in every situation! And knowing that, he should have never brought it up!”

Loretta smiled, and hugged the younger woman, ruffling her brown hair. “Georgie, do I think you have messed up big time? Yes. But Chris isn’t a stupid. He’s gone through the same things. I’m sure he isn’t going to hold it against you.”

“And if he does?”

“Then, my dear, you’ll have to charm your way back into his life. But trust me. That’s not gonna happen. Christopher was a goner the moment you crossed paths a long time ago.” 

Georgie smiled kindly, reassured, and then, a stab hit her full force, and she gasped, hot tears burning her eyes as she barely kept from screaming out in pain.

“Ouch. Braxton Hicks. Gotta hate them.” She tried to laugh, but failed, as once again she felt a stab of pain in her abdomen shortly after the previous one; Loretta looked at her, her eyes huge and worried, and took a big breath, entering into battle-mode, turning from friend to doctor in the blink of an eye.

“Georgie, how long have had them?” She asked, concerned, studying the younger woman with clinical eye.

“Last night? But I can’t have contractions yet! It’s… I’m only thirty-six weeks along, and babies are considered full terms when they are born between thirty-seven and the forty weeks. Which means that _they have_ to be Braxton Hicks! Right?” She was ranting- something she would have never done in everyday life, on the job, where she was focused and controlled; she was barely taking any breaths between words, all the books read, all the pieces of information acquired since knowing she was pregnant running through her head, flowing right before her eyes.

(She should have listened to her Doctor. Listened what _she_ told her instead of going for all those bloody self-help books.) 

“Honey, Braxton Hicks would have been long gone by now. I’m afraid this is the real deal. Whether you want to admit it or not, your baby is coming.”

“And here it comes our hero! And I’m not talking about RPG, I mean _real_ hero. I had to fight my way to get my hands on the last dark chocolate and hazelnuts bar in the building. And gotta tell you, Diana from accounting wasn’t happy about it. But I didn’t gave up. I also gave her five dollars, but, ehy…” Sebastian stopped his monologue, chocolate bar in hand like a trophy, and looked at the two women, Newman on a stroll and Loretta kneeling before her. “Am I interrupting something?” 

Loretta smiled. “No, dear, but you should call 911. Our Georgie here is going into labor, and if they don’t get here soon, she’ll give birth into my autopsy room.” 

Loretta smiled and cupped Georgie’s face, and yet, despite the medical examiner’s reassurances that everything was going to be all right, Georgie shivered at her touch, fear engulfing her whole being.

It was too soon. 

The baby needed at least another couple of weeks. And she needed time to fix things with Christopher; she thought she could do it all on her own. Now, she felt in the deep of her heart that she couldn’t. She needed- _wanted_ \- Christopher LaSalle in her life. Hers and her baby’s.

She gripped like for dear life the medallion around her neck she kept hidden under her shirts, the same one he had taken off before making love to her just a few days before- like wearing it could have been disrespectful towards Savannah; he had left it at her place, and yet, she had been unable to give it back to him- holding onto it like it was the last straw connecting her to his namesake.

Saint Christopher once held a child, and helped him cross a huge river. 

She hoped he would protect her child as well, and help it getting into the world.


	11. Chapter 11

“Loretta! Tell me things!”

In the maternity ward, Loretta greeted with a bright smile the members of her team, Pride in front of them all; as soon as Loretta had called, they had tried to tie down any loose ends of their case, made sure that everything was all right and then they had been on their way back to New Orleans, wondering of what exactly was going on.

Now, it reassured them seeing the medical examiner so… happy and carefree: if she felt that way, then, then everything _had_ to be all right.

It just… _had_ to, Chris prayed with all his strength. Georgie had to be all right. And her baby, too. Because he knew that she already loved that baby with all of herself. She had since the first instant she had known she was carrying it; if something were to happen to her baby, Georgie- the smug, sarcastic, cynic and hard-assed cop with the pouty lips – would have been devastated.

He too, he knew, would have been lost forever. He cared too much for them, had decided that he would have been like a father for that child the moment he had heard the heartbeat of the small and innocent creature- if not before, when he had felt the tiny miracle moving into its mother’s womb many months before that.

He had lost too much – _too many-_ already in his life. Friends and coworkers to Katrina. Savannah to Baitfish. And all too often he feared that Cade, too, could be lost to him- he had thought he had lost him for real, once and for all, during those long five years he hadn’t crossed paths with his older brother.

He couldn’t lose them- _neither_ of them.

“Baby’s in the NICU. She is going to be in an incubator for a few days, but she didn’t come too early and she isn’t too underweight, so the prognosis is extremely good.” She smiled, her eyes almost shining with tears of happiness and relief- she had helped a new life coming into the world, a nice change for her, and her friend and her baby were all right.

“She? Newman had a girl?” Meredith was squealing with glee, her soft curls moving like in a happy dance around her soft features. 

“Looks like we’re getting you boys outnumbered, Country Mouse!” Sonja joked, playfully elbowing Chris in the side.

Loretta chuckled and nodded. “Caitlin Ann Newman was born a little bit more than an hour ago. You can go and try to see her behind the glass if you want to- Georgie is still resting anyway. I’m not promising you anything, though, I’m not sure if you’ll see the baby from outside…”

They made their way in the direction Loretta had indicated, but before he could take another step, Loretta stopped Chris, grabbing him for his shoulder. “Not you, Christopher. You need to have a serious discussion with a certain someone.” She leaned her head in direction of the room at her left. 

“I thought she was asleep?”

Loretta sighed and groaned at the same time. “Christopher, Georgina is currently under the influence of some heavy, pretty good stuff. Which means that she’ll have to listen to you. And she’ll also probably be a little bit more conciliatory than usual.” 

Chris chortled, and then, quietly, very, very, quietly, he entered in the dark bedroom; he stopped at the side of the bed, and sighed, looking in awe and filled with love at the sleepy woman right before him, clad in the ugliest cerulean hospital gown he had ever seen.

_ Told ya to stay home, or at least to bring everywhere your go-bag… _

He suspired, and went to sit at her side, on the edge of the bed; he caressed her messy, sweaty hair, and laughed satisfied when she turned, and leaned her face in his touch.

“Ehy….” She breathed, sleepy, her voice broken by yawning.

“Ehy to you.” He slid over the white bed sheets, so that they could be face to face, their noses almost touching; he crossed his hands over his abdomen, and crossed his ankles as well, like he was in his natural element and it was the most normal thing to do. “I’ve been told you’ve been great.”

She grunted, her eyes still half-closed. “Apparently, someone pampered me when I was pregnant.” 

When she went to rest her head on his shoulder, he titled his head to the side, and chuckled as he saw what was peeking from the neckline of the robe- his St. Christopher medallion- and sighed with renewed hope. 

He had been right. He had _always_ been right.

“Chris? I didn’t mean what I said the other day. I don’t really thinkthat you were in just for Cait…”

He just chuckled, knowingly; _you silly, silly girl, I knew._ He thought to himself, leaving a butterfly kiss on her forehead. 

He took her left hand in his own, interlaced their fingers on his chest. “I meant it. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here- and I’m here to stay.”

He paused, looked at her in the eyes; he opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped him, shaking her head lightly, biting her lips.

“I think…” She gulped. Paused. Took a big breath, and smiled. As bright as the spring morning sun. “I think I’m done running. I think I’m home.”

“You staying?” He asked her. He should have already known it, should have seen what she wanted in her eyes, but hearing her saying it, it was like his whole world was finally being put together as it was supposed to be.

“There’s something here… It’s… I don’t know. I just get why you all came here and never left.”

“It’s New Orleans. It never forgets- but it forgives.”

She shook her head, chuckling. “No. It’s not just that. Walls, buildings…. They don’t make family, nor a home. A _home_ can be anywhere there is love.” She stared at his eyes, filled with love for her, and her beautiful little daughter- a child that she knew- she _felt_ \- soon would be his in name if not blood. “You are all I need, Chris. I should have realized it when I first met you… but I was so scared…”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He asked, his voice a little unsure.

Georgie smiled, and thought back at what she had wanted her whole life, what she had missed- a loving family, a happy house, parents doting over their daughter; she had craved that her whole life, first after losing her mother, with her father unable to meet his children’s needs, and later again when, him gone too, she and Ellie had entered foster care. 

Then, she had seen – lived -it firsthand, back when The Major had taken her and her siblings in. She had tried to reproduce it, first with Noah and then with Don, but both times in the blink of an eye, everything had been gone, ruined, and she had promised herself that she would have never felt the same, ever again.

But Chris, how could she deny Chris what he truly wanted? He deserved that happiness he too hadn’t seen in his own family; she could give it to him- that was the only thing he asked of her. She could do it for him… and take so much more in return.

“I’m positive.”

He snickered. “Just watch, Miss Newman. One day I’ll get to marry you...” He breathed on her mouth, seconds before joining their lips together.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Absolutely, King!” Chris stepped a little away from Georgie, grinning.

Pride chuckled satisfied, a “ _I knew I was right”_ expression printed on his face; he reached the bed, and patted Chris on the shoulder like a proud father would.

“Christopher, son, can you leave us alone?” Chris nodded, and left the bed; as he walked, he lazily scratched the back of his head, and, when he reached the door, he stopped to salute, snickering; Pride turned back to Georgia, hands in the pockets of his trousers.

“You know, there are things you trust when you live in Louisiana; the river will rise, and people will rise to the occasion, no matter what; the rain will never stop pouring, the drinks will never stop flowing and music will never stop playing- and no matter what Hell you may go through living here, you trust in God almighty, and in friends… and family.”

She smiled and shook her head, her eyes still half-closed, the light burning her retinas. “Trying to talk me out of moving here, Pride?”

He denied with a small movement of his head; his expression screamed that he knew what he was talking about, and knew he was right. “New Orleans gets in your blood, that,” He underlined, pointing his index at her. “Is what I meant. What I meant is, you are staying.”

It was a statement- not a question.

She sighed, nodded. “I’m taking as much maternity leave as possible but… I don’t know if I want for things to go back the way they used to. I don’t know if I still want to go in the field- not if Chris and I… I think…” She paused. “I miss working forensic, Pride. I really do.”

“We’ll see what can be done. If not with us, I’m sure NOLA PD could do with one more forensic analyst. Not that Sebastian wouldn’t like two extra hands in the lab…” She thanked him, her voice sweet and low, a little bit more than a whisper, her cheeks blushing a little.

“And speaking of Christopher; when I sold my house after the divorce, I gave Loretta something for the kids’ college. I want to do the same for his baby. And we both know that the moment he learnt that you were expecting Cait, he decided he would be her papa.”

“You and Christopher spoke?” She tensed, her hands gripping the rough fabric of the bedsheets like for dear life, her hold so strong her knuckles were turning white.

“No need to.” Pride teased, smiling knowingly. “Although we did exchange a few words.”

_ “So, our Georgie… everything is all right between the two of you?” _

_ Chris shook his head, kept his mouth shout, faking ignorance as soon as Pride cornered him. _

_ “I don’t know what you are talking about, King.” He smiled, a tiny bit smug and arrogant. _

_ “Christopher, son, if there’s anything you want to share with me…” Pride opened his arms up in invitation. “You know what we say. The more I know, the more I can help.” _

_ The younger agent tightened his lips in a straight line, he kept his mouth shout, wondering what he was supposed to say and what he couldn’t.  _

_ And yet, he knew where Pride was going. And that, at least, he deserved an explanation of sort. _

_ “That’s not what you think.” _

_ “And, Christopher, what it may be that I think?” Chris knew that expression. Pride was playing good cop, trying to get his sympathy, to have Chris to lower his defenses. _

_ “I don’t sleep where I eat, King.” He said cynically. He didn’t want to tell Pride the truth, didn’t want to have his mentor- his friend- pitying him for something he was losing, something that had never been his to begin with. _

_ But then, Pride looked at him in the same way he used to do with Old Christopher, and something broke in him: he wasn’t that man any longer, neither he could be. _

_ “It’s not mine, if that’s what you think.” He sighed. _

_ Pride chuckled, patted him on the shoulder. “Blood and genes don’t a  _ dad _make, son.”_

_ “I know King, trust me, I know.” Chris took a big breath, lazily scratching the back of his head. “What I don’t know is what  _ she _wants. I think…” Chris closed his eyes, took a big breath and readied himself for the incoming admission. “I love them both, King, but I have no rights- I can’t ask her to stay, and if she leaves, I can’t follow her around. And if she goes back to L.A…”_

_ Pride smirked. “You know Christopher, your problem is that you don’t get that sometimes actions don’t talk louder than words. You’ve been taking care of her, taking care of her baby, but have you told Georgie any of this?” He titled his head to the side. “Give Georgie a reason to stay and keep you around. What you just told me? You tell her.” _

“Sir…” She pouted, a little exasperated; Pride, in answer, simply glared at the brunette. Georgina wasn’t going to get the last word just because she _wanted_ to drop the subject- something she used to do when addressing him by “ _sir_ ”.

“Georgie, you may not have gotten it yet in that big brain of yours, but _here_ , we aren’t merely people who works together; we are _family._ ” 

She rolled her eyes from the bed. “My parents,” the words were almost dying in her throat, it was, oh, so hard, and felt dramatically wrong and guilty addressing the Major and his wife as family- referring to them as _her parents_ \- when they hadn’t been that by blood.

“My parents were Navy. My brother is…” She quickly corrected herself, the loss still incredibly fresh despite the almost two years since Joseph and his wife Eve’s deaths. “He was Navy. Their comrades are still like family to us. I know what you mean, but I still can’t.”

“Chris isn’t simply a protégé to me. He is like a brother - maybe even a sort of son. Let me do this. For him.”

He handed her the check she felt coming, and as soon as she saw the figures, she gasped, and folded the small, and way too precious, piece of paper. “Pride… I just can’t… that’s way too much and…”

He shook his head, sitting on the small plastic chair at the side of the bed. “I took care of Laurel, my dad, Loretta’s kids, I bought the bar… I can do it, Georgie. I can, and _I want_ to.” __

“The first year of a new business is rough, Pride. And I still can’t get how you got to open to begin with….you still have so much to do there… You _need_ that money more than we do and you know it!” 

“Georgie, as a father, let me tell you this: you and Chris will need it. Furniture, food, diapers, clothes… school… maybe even a new place eventually…” _A wedding_ , he even guessed, chuckling under his teeth.“Just say thank you, and make me happy.”

And she did, knowing that she would have never made it out alive in a battle against Dwayne Cassius Pride. “Be the godfather, at least?”

Pride chuckled, satisfied, nodding; he said his hellos, and kissed her on the cheek, promising to be back again to chat and catch up; he joined his other agents, still in front of the glass wall, still focused on the babies behind the surface; they were trying to steal a glance at the incubators in the back of the room, hoping to get a glimpse of Baby Girl Newman. 

He patted Chris on the shoulder, his agent looking just like he did the day he first saw his own baby girl so many years before.

“The LaSalle basketball team is one step closer to coming true, uh?” He asked, already imagining he and Christopher sharing conversations in the future, debating on how handle their daughters’ dates and how soon would be Caitlin allowed to date to begin with .

Chris beamed, his eyes still focused on little Caitlin.

He didn’t even answered his best friend.

His  
mind was only on _his_ baby, and his  
baby alone. 


	12. Chapter 12

“Weird setting to talk about a case.” Keith chuckled, but didn’t bother losing any time, and went to seat in front of Newman, casually; Georgie looked at him- _really_ looked at him for maybe the first time- and understood what she used to see in him: Keith was easy on the eye, there was no denying it, but mostly, he was… _easy_. He wasn’t high-maintenance. Didn’t expect her to be either. Their paths had crossed when they were looking for nothing more than a little fun and some companionship, and that had been it all. 

He still acted casual, but she immediately noticed that he had slightly changed his look; he wasn’t “picture-perfect” any longer, no high-couture suits, just polo and jeans. He even sounded less arrogant; he seemed… happy, and at peace. With himself, and life in general.

(She could understand that. She felt the same as well, after all.)

She guessed his family was to blame for that. His ex-wife, Valerie, was doing a good job with him. Making him a good man yet again. As much as possible, at least.

She hoped she wouldn’t ruin everything for him. Because, as silly as it could seem, she still cared about him.

She also hoped that he wasn’t going to ruin everything for her- for _them._ Not now that she and Chris had finally come to an understanding of their feelings, and choose to walk that path that was called life together.

“That’s… not why I asked you to come here?” Georgie nervously tapped her fingers on the tablecloth, and her voice was so low, her tone so unsure, that even her affirmation sounded much more like a question. 

“I guessed so.” Keith chuckled, his ankles crossed under the small table; he tilted his head to the side, looked at her with sincere curiosity, and then smiled, shaking his head a little. “I guess that congratulations are in order?”

Georgie gasped, and suddenly blushed, as her eyes fell on the ring on her left hand- it was small, old and simple- ayellow gold band with a small diamond in the center with two small pearls at its sides- and yet she thought it was perfect, much more beautiful that many other bigger things she had seen. 

__

* * *

_ Chris paced the garden of the NCIS NOLA headquarter, and kept readjusting his jacket and his tie, checking every minute the time. _

_ “Didn’t know you had court today…” _

_ Chris turned as he heard Georgie’s voice, and welcomed her with a bright smile that enlightened his strong features and a light, quick peck on the lips; three months old Caitlin, as beautiful as a cherub in her white and light pink onesie, was in her stroller, deep asleep despite the loud music filling the busy streets of New Orleans, and he petted her nose with his index, tenderly. _

_ He sat at the wrought iron table, and couldn’t stop looking at the baby in awe, feeling like she already belonged there, that she felt at easy and in tune with the New Orleans life-style. _

_ “I got you coffee. The good stuff you enjoy.” He poured her the thick, dark liquid into her pink, girly cup, and chuckled. “You are allowed to one cup a day, after all.” _

_ “Special Agent LaSalle, are you trying to bribe me?” She pouted, giggling like a schoolgirl, sipping the warm liquid and moaning at closed eyes. “Because, this? It will get you anywhere you want…” _

_ “Always knew that I should have offered you a cup on day one, instead of even refusing to shake your hand…” He chuckled, completely understanding her innuendo- and appreciating it; it had been three months since Cait’s birth, after all, which meant that soon he and Georgie wouldn’t have to restrain themselves any longer.  _

_ She snickered sipping the hot drink, and tilted her head to the side, looking at her partner cautiously; she lifted an eyebrow, taking in his whole appearance.  _

_ “You know Chris, I do feel a little… under-dressed.” A V-Neck lavender sweater, simple jeans and running shoes- that was how she had gone to meet him. _

_ “Nah, you look fine. Although I wouldn’t mind if those killer heels of yours were to make an appearance again- this time preferably outside of the public eye.” _

_ They both laughed, then Georgie sobered, her eyes falling yet again on her yawning baby. “Seriously, thought, what the hell is going on?” _

_ “My rent expires next month. And I don’t want to renew it.” He paused, waiting for her to catch up, which, from her face, she just did; she knew it was an excuse, that it was actually a white lie, as Christopher actually  _ owned _his apartment- or at least, that was what Pride had told her-, but she knew why he was doing it. It made her smile. It made her happy._

_ Of course, she could also understand why he didn’t want to have to deal with that place, as Savannah had died there. She even had never been there herself- and Chris was rarely if never home himself. And that had been going on longer than they had been involved. _

_ She was pretty sure that soon Chris would phone his “pal” up north and hear if he was still all right with selling- that place was big enough for the three of them, after all. _

_ “You are staying in New Orleans, I’m practically  _ her _father, I’m already at your place most of the time and, even living with you, I would still be in the Quarter. It’s a done deal.”_

_ She groaned, letting herself fall on the chair in a very inelegant way. “I don’t know, Chris. It’sbeen just a few months…” _

_ Chris tsk-tsked, shaking his head with a devilish grin. “I’m sorry, did I ever let you believe that you were going to have a saying in this? Because from now on, I’m taking charge when it comes to our relationship.” _

_ Without giving her time to reply, he grabbed her left hand and slipped a simple and tasteful jewel on her ring finger, not even bothering proposing with words.  _

_ She sighed dreamily and exaggeratedly, studying her new acquisition from afar. “Oh, well, I guess you’ll do. You may even be the take-charge kind of man I’ve been told I needed in my life.” _

_ They both laughed, and toasted with their coffees.  _

* * *

   
“You  
and LaSalle set a date already?”

She cleared her voice, his seemingly innocent question bringing her back to reality. The mirth in Keith’s voice was starting to make her feel a little uncomfortable, but also mad and annoyed; Keith had immediately jumped to the (right) conclusion that the man in her life was none other than Christopher LaSalle; Keith had known all along that Chris was feeling _something_ for her, and he hadn’t bothered to take a step back. 

Nope- instead, he had gotten her into bed. Just to break up with her at his own convenience.

(Her sister was right. She was really, really bad at this whole dating and relationships things.)

“Guess you aren’t moving back to LA, then…” He chuckled shamelessly, and she started to see red.

(Fun fact: she wasn’t even sure whom she was madder with, if him for being so casual around her, or herself for having been in a relationship with him.)

She wasn’t there to talk about her love-life or her sudden engagement (a thing of just the evening before), nor to chit-chat about whether she was going back to LA or not.

She was there to talk about her – _their_ – daughter.

Someone Keith even didn’t know of.

She had to come clean, if she wanted to fully move on with her life. And she had to do it _now_. 

She took a big breath, and bit her lips; she was so nervous- so scared and worried- that she was scratching her own cuticles.

“I gave birth. It’s a girl. Caitlin Anne. She is three months old.” She paused, cleared her throat and sipped her water, waiting for his reaction. None come- he simply looked at her quizzically, like he was trying to understand why she had called him there to talk about her daughter.

“Yeah, I’ve heard someone saying that you were on maternity leave. That’s why you and Chris are going so fast, right? I mean, I know that nowadays you don’t have to be married to have children, but in the eyes of the law- and in our line of work especially- a marriage certificate can comes handy.”

Easy on the eye? Check. 

But definitely not the smartest guy in the room. 

“Keith,the baby isn’t Chris’- it’s yours.” She stated, talking slowly and underlining the words, as she was talking with a child.

In a fraction of seconds, she saw every kind of expression, and emotion, on his face; he was pale and confused and panicky and then definitely worried and scared.

“I…. I can’t… I mean, I’ve never wanted to be a father, and besides, there’s Val to think about, and you’ve got Chris and…”

She rolled her eyes, not even bothering to listen to half of the things he was mumbling, more to himself than to her.

He wasn’t asking what she felt or thought. 

He wasn’t even bothering to ask her about the girl she had just told him he had _fathered_.

“Keith? If you’ll allow me…” She sneered, her voice matter-of-factly like she was with a perp, and he finally stopped ranting.

She handed him over a yellow folder filled with legal papers, and saw him quickly going through them; she smiled, a bit cynically, sad, and softened a tiny bit.

“You don’t have to sign them now. You can go over them with a lawyer if you want.” She played with the engagement ring, then looked back to Keith, who seemed as lost as never before. “I know you don’t want children, Keith. And I’m not going to impose… _this_ upon you. Besides, Cait already has a daddy, and we have more than we actually need.”

_ Money,  _ he correctly guessed, but didn’t bother saying at loud.

Keith paused, skimmed over the papers. “Dear ol’ Chris always wanted to be a dad eventually. Loves being around children…” He paused, then, he lifted his eyes from the legal lingo and smiled at her. “… And he seems to love you. Must be terrific for him.” 

She nodded. There was nothing else she could add to that. It was all true- even Keith had understood it. Saw it before they did- or at least they decided to admit it.

“Listen, I think that I’ll go through them with my lawyer, but, I don’t think there will be any issues. I’ll get back to you maybe next week or so?”

She simply nodded, he did the same and he just went away, as calm and controlled as she remembered him to be; and that’s when she knew: they would have been all right. He would have signed the papers, because he already knew it was the right thing to do and because Keith Trevor had always knew that fatherhood wasn’t in his genes.

“Everything all right?” Georgie was awakened by her reverie when she heard Chris’ tender voice, his soft touch upon her shoulder; she smiled and titled her head in his direction, smiling at the perfect picture he and her daughter made.

_ Their daughter,  _ she corrected herself as Chris sat at her side, Cait in his arms, peacefully asleep without a care in the whole world; Cait didn’t have his name (yet), but they all knew how he felt; one day, soon, Keith would have signed the papers where he promised to never claim any rights on her, and then and only then Chris would have formally adopt Caitlin. The little girl would have grown up knowing only one father- her papa, the one who had been at her mama’s side since (almost) the beginning.

“Yeah.” She smiled, leaning over his shoulder, tenderly caressing with one finger the little head full of dark curls of her daughter. “Yeah, we are all right.”


	13. Epilogue

 

“Ugh. I still can’t believe we allowed Ellie to arrange _our_ wedding.” As she spoke over the phone with Chris, Georgie huffed, fearing the day to come. “We should have done what any normal person does and elope. We still have time to do that though, right?”

Chris couldn’t see her, and yet, he _just knew_ she was pouting. Trying to get the upper hand with him. Like she had always done.

“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but _this_ is what normal people do.”

“Then eloping is what _sane_ people do. Which we are. Sane, I mean. Normal… jury’s still out on that.” She giggled, a sound he hadn’t heard a lot during the months of her pregnancy- since she had returned to New Orleans in general, actually- and it filled his heart with joy, knowing that _he_ was doing that to her. 

He hadn’t thought that he would have been able to get this again. He had believed his heart was lost once and for all. That he would have never realized his dream of having a family- a wife and child- and yet, when he was less expecting it, it had happened.

“Where are you now?” She asked, looking, a bit dissatisfied, at the dress hanging up on the mirror; the problem wasn’t with the dress itself- more with the fact that she had been dragged into this nightmarish situation. And all to make peace with dear old Ellison.

“I’m outside, just under our window.” She could hear the smile in his voice. Then, Chris took a big breath. “Listen, if you really want to do this… we can write down a note and take a flight to Vegas. We’d be there in three hours, and got married just the two of us.”

“Nah. Besides, wedding aren’t for the people actually getting married, they are for their families and their friends to have fun, get drunk and try to get lucky.” She grunted. She had never been a fan of weddings- marriages were another thing altogether, she had been there, done that, and was more than ready and willingly to do it again.

“ _Also_ for the families and friends.” He sounded a bit offended; when she spoke next, Chris swore that he could see her rolling her eyes over the phone. 

“Whatever. You know I’m talking about those circus-like ceremonies, not the getting married part. It’s those I can do without, but _someone_ guilt-tripped me over the fact that I eloped already once in my life, hence they couldn’t be there to see me walking down the metaphorical aisle.” 

“And that’s how, to answer your question, you probably allowed your sister to turn into the wedding planner from Hell?” It wasn’t really an affirmation, more like a question. Because frankly? He couldn’t think of anyone else being mad because Georgie wanted to elope.

“Actually, I was talking about Jethro. You know, as in _Gibbs._ ” 

Chris snorted, and Georgie joined in the laughter; she went to seat at the bay-window and looked down; she could see Chris underneath, already dressed to the nines, smiling over the phone.

They were both in silence. 

“You still there?” She nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her so she answered in the affirmative, “So, I’ll see you in, what, 45 minutes?”

“An hour tops. I’ll try not to be late.”

_ It doesn’t matter- I’ll still be there waiting for you,  _ he almost said, but then he decided it was just too heavy, too serious. And today, today was supposed to be about happiness, not wasted time and missed opportunities.

“I love you.” He simply said, instead.

“I know.” She answered, giggling. She wasn’t good at putting her feelings into words, and she liked to make fun of Chris, every now and then. He was a nice guy, so who said she couldn’t quote Han Solo to him every now and then?

She hung the phone up the moment Ellison, already fully ready in her forest green dress, waltzed into the room without bothering knocking, in pure Ellison fashion, their two eight years old twin nieces hot on her heels, still in their frilly pink pajamas, busy rubbing their sleepy eyes; they immediately made their way for the crib, but Georgie tsk-tsked them. 

“C’mon girls, come here and give your aunt a kiss!” Ivy and Lily quickly obeyed, but as soon as they were done, they immediately went to look in awe at their sleeping cousin, doing their best to not disturb her.

“You have five minutes to take a shower, and use that under the shower balmy stuff instead of the cream. You’ll not have to wait for it to dry and it will buy us some time.”

Georgie chuckled, and put her hands on her older sister’s shoulders. “What, no _Good morning sis, how are you doing?_ Or, _how did you sleep?”_

Ellison snickered. “We are on a tight schedule _and_ your boyfriend already asked you all those things. Now stop wasting our time and go get ready, unless your daughter needs feeding.”

“My daughter already ate and Chris isn’t my boyfriend. Not any longer, at least.”

“Yeah, all right, whatever, now go and get ready, I still have to do your hair and your make-up once you are done with the shower.”

Georgie did as she was asked- demanded, actually- and not more than ten minutes later she was sitting in front of her vanity, dressed with a simple wedding dress, pearl white and knee-length with lacy long sleeves, just a solitary diamond at her neck and at her lobes. 

“The Major would have loved this. You always made him proud.” Ellison said while brushing her younger sister’s hair. “He wouldn’t have been proud of how we fought, thought.”

Georgie put an hand on her sister’s one, right on her shoulder, and grabbed it like for dear life; the truth was, when their brother and his wife had died and left her the girls, she hadn’t been mad with Ellison for fighting to get them; _of course_ she had been hurt by her words, but not too much, not knowing that they were true. 

She had been single, with no life-partner at the horizon, whereas Ellison had been married for a good ten years and already had a pre-teenage son.

She was a cop, worked cases in the field and didn’t fully considered how risky it could be for her safety, whereas Ellison was an interior decorator.

Hell, she hadn’t even card about the _hours_ , falling asleep at her desk more nights than not, while her sister, well, she did worked as many hours as she wanted whenever she wanted to, being on her own.

Georgie loved the girls, had loved them since day one, but… she wasn’t sure she would have been strong enough to give up on her lifestyle back then. But as soon as she got pregnant? That was a whole other argument. 

The moment was getting heavy, and Ellison was starting to see her sister’s eyes getting teary; she couldn’t have any of that, not when she had helped her sister with her make-up, and, all right, the label said water-proof, but she didn’t really wanted to test it yet.

So, she went for levity.

“You know, I’m confused… how does it work exactly?”

Georgie looked at her sister’s reflection in the mirror, confused. She sounded quite serious, and the former detective wondered where she was going. “What? Me and forensic, you mean? You know that’s technically what I studied, right?”

Ellison tsk-tsked. “Oh, no, I wasn’t talking about of anything as boring as work… I mean, do you call him Chris in bed? And, has he ever called you that in that heat of the moment? Because, to us, you’ve been Chris for a long, long time, and now, not only you suddenly aren’t Chris any longer, but you actually call someone else by that name…”

They both started laughing, Georgie’s cheeks coloring of a deep red as she reassured her older sister with a smug grin. “Ellie, c’mon, you know that I’ll always be Chrissy to you.” 

“ **WE ARE READY!”** The sisters turned as soon as they heard the two hurricanes running into the room in their cute green dressed and the ballerina shoes they had insisted on; at their back, Chloe, the Major’s wife, the woman who had fostered them, with Cait, a cloud of pink and white, in her arms.

“Gibbs’s waiting for you, honey.” She leaned over her step-daughter, and gave her a quick kiss, the twins going to hide behind her legs.

Georgie stood, and looked at Ellie. “I know that I should have asked before, and that I did say that I was giving you free reign, but, I was wondering…”

Ellie shook her head. “Sis, sis, sis… when will you learn to trust me? In my line of work, I know how to look for what _people_ wants- not what I’d like to have for myself.”

“Yes, but that’s a wedding. Not at apartment. Which is why I’m suddenly worried I’ll not be able to handle today.”

“I’m sure your sister arranged just the thing for you, Newman.” Gibbs knocked at the semi-open door, and gave a quick look inside, impatience in his tone. “You ready or what? We are getting late.”

Georgie nodded; she stood, and gave a kiss to each woman of her family- her “mother”, her sister, her nieces and her baby, and then she joined Gibbs, and allowed him to walk arm in arm with her towards the front door, downstairs,and then the car.

“Uhm. That’s weird.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Gibbs laughed. “By the way, I think I may say that I’m somehow… honored that you asked me to walk you down the aisle. I thought you would have asked Pride. Not that I’ve never believed you to be the kind of woman who _needs_ to be given away or walked down the aisle to begin with.” 

She shrugged. “Don’t read too much into this. You are simply the man I’ve known longer in my life. Who is still alive, I mean.”

Gibbs shook his head, like to say, _Don’t make me hit you on your wedding day_. 

He opened her the passenger door of the robin-eggshell historic Citroen, and then took the driver’s seat, Georgie’s eyes looking at him with mirth and fun- it was unusual, and a bit strange, seeing Gibbs all dressed up.

“Does it mean I don’t have to read LaSalle the riot act? Don’t have to tell him to better be careful with your heart because he’ll have to deal with me if he breaks it?”

For a long time, Gibbs had been a mentor to her, a friend- sometimes, even a sort of father figure. Now, seeing him happy, smiling and making fun of the situation, it filled her heart with joy.

“No.” She shook her head, and reached at the same time for the bouquet of white flowers on the backseat. She smiled, inhaled the sweet scent and enjoyed the sensation of the cold and delicate petals and leaves under her fingertips. “He’ll be careful with my heart. Just like I’ll be careful with his.”

After having driven in circles, they finally reached their destination, and she smiled, shaking her head almost in disbelief, because Ellison, for once, had been right- she had arranged her sister’s wedding, not her own. 

Their few guests, immediately families and their closest friends, less than 30 people among the two of them, were gathered in front of Pride’s bar, where a sign with “Private Event” made good show of itself. 

“By the way, I know you never wanted to be walked down the aisle. It’s not really in your strings.” Gibbs smirked as he left the car, someone else opening her door and offering her an helping hand. “I think I may have in mind someone who’s better suited for the job.”

“Ehy.” She simply breathed, her voice only a murmur; she stopped thinking about anything, and any nervousness she had felt until that very moment vanished. There, in Chris’ arms- looking at him- she knew: they were going to be all right. Their lives – _their life_ \- wasn’t going to be perfect, but she knew with certainty that it would be the best version of it; they were going to have problems, just like anyone else, there were going to be arguments, ups and down, but they were going to be part of _them_. They were going to do it together. The both of them.

The three of them, actually. 

Georgie took a big breath and looked up in the sky; her thought went to the woman who had shaped Christopher into the amazing man he had turned into, and she thanked Savannah, for she and St. Christopher had watched over her beloved, and even her child before she was born. 

She firmly believed they still did.

Chris looked at her quizzically, and she tightened her grip around his hand; they walked inside the bar, hand in hand, families and friends at their sides, ready to celebrate something that many of them had seen long before the soon-to-be married couple did, something that the both of them were either too scared or too guilt-ridden to fully accept it.

He lightly kissed her, just a quick peck on the lips, like a sweet promise of things to come, his eyes shining with a joy Chris would have never thought capable of feeling ever again in his life- the same thing _she_ had firmly believed in for way too long. “You ready for this?”

“Yes.” She answered as they stood before the Judge of Peace. “More than ever.”

__

FIN


End file.
